Mexico Forever and Ever
by Magali1
Summary: Lyla figures some stuff out and figures out what she wants. The 'missing' Lyla chapter from "Mexico Forever." It's been extended to a couple of chapters so it doesn't seem rushed. Angsty Angst. Tim/Lyla; mostly Lyla POV. Appearances by Jason, Tyra, Becky, Billy, Mindy, Buddy, and the Taylors.
1. Negative

**A/N:** This is an extended version of the missing Lyla chapter from "Mexico Forever." It didn't fit in the end of that fic and I felt given the storyline in that fic, I could expand this to a primarily Lyla fic. It's got a lot of Crazy!Lyla, whom I quite enjoy. My favorite scene in the show is when she's crashing cards into Buddy's dealership. I thought that moment just defined her character perfectly so consider this a fic of that, in so many words. It's angsty, you're forewarned. Enjoy :)

* * *

**1. Negative**

"Please be negative, please, please…please," Lyla breathed, her eyes closed. She opened them slowly, like pulling back curtains, peering at her reflection in the mirror of the hospital bathroom. She felt her arm ache a little from where she'd had to draw her own blood, wanting the results to be as accurate as possible. There was no way she was going to pee on a stick. I'm going to have one chance at this and I'm not going to think about it any longer than necessary.

She bit her lower lip, staring at her face. Since Mexico she hadn't been able to sleep. She'd taken to popping an Ambien. Usually she fell off the ledge immediately after she closed her eyes, since she worked roughly 80 to 90 hours a week, so it was a luxury when she could sleep a full night. All she'd done was stare up at the ceiling of her apartment, tapping her fingers on her stomach. Then she'd fitfully toss and turn for a few hours before saying 'screw it' and coming in to work. No one wants their ER doctor to be an insomniac, she thought, knowing full well what lack of sleep and her constant adrenaline rushes were doing to her body. She'd taken to running, hoping the exercise would calm her body down enough to crash. It was this. That's what it was. Once I get an answer, I'll be able to sleep, she thought.

Go time. She dropped her eyes to her phone, typing into the central system and brought up her lab results. She blinked a few times at them, her eyes widening. "Oh thank God," she thought, dropping her forehead to the mirror. She covered her chest with her hand. It was beating so hard she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. "Thank you God," she prayed out loud, looking back at the results to double check.

There was no way, even in the first three weeks of pregnancy, that her progesterone levels would be that normal. "Whew," she laughed. Dodged a bullet there. She closed out of the program, shoving her phone into the pocket of her scrub pants. She wiped at her face and reached for her scrub cap, tying her hair back into a messy bun and linking the strings together beneath the bun. Somehow the Dillon Panthers cap had become her lucky scrub cap. "It'll be a good day," she said, grinning at her reflection. "Because you're not pregnant with your ex-boyfriend and severely messed up former ex-con's child. Conceived on a drunken night where you wanted to kill him, so instead, you slept with him."

And I'll tell you what's disturbing me now, the fact that I'm talking to myself this entire time, that's disturbing. Lyla shook her head slightly, reaching for the faucet. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face, freshening herself up before she left the bathroom, walking over to her locker in the residents' lounge. She opened the cupboard, since it was more that than an actual locker, and slipped her stethoscope around her neck. She slipped off her Ugg boots and kicked them into the bottom, taking out her comfortable Dansko clogs and shoved her feet into them.

It was pediatrics day, which she really enjoyed. She had yet to decide on any sort of specialization before her Boards, but she was leaning towards pediatric trauma care. She affixed her badge to the collar of her lilac scrubs. She left the locker room and went to the main desk, leaning her folded arms on it. "What do I have today Carol?" she asked, her favorite head nurse working the same shift with her today. Carol was like the mother that Lyla wished her mother would acted like; she just adored her.

Carol smiled, reaching beneath the desk into the lockbox and took out Lyla's iPad. "You need to catch up on your charts young lady, I'm getting nastygrams from Records and Billing."

"Yeah, yeah," Lyla mumbled, logging into the system. She swiped her finger over the bottom, cocking her head slightly at her lineup. She looked over at the pediatric area, with its brightly colored walls and curtains. "Anyone working this with me today?"

"Just Ryan. Is he still flirting with you? Want me to tell him off?"

"No, I can handle him."

Carol leaned forward beside her, her voice dropping so it was just the two of them. "You know sweetie, I know it's been about a month but I have to say that you seem…well you seem like that trip you took did some good but at the same time I don't think you're sleeping."

Well you'd be accurate on both fronts which is why I love you, Lyla thought, smiling quickly. "I'm fine Carol."

"Sweetie what did you do to your arm?"

Lyla glanced at the Barbie band-aid over the cottonball on her elbow. She shrugged. "Just some blood tests."

Concern etched itself instantly in Carol's face. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick? I can do a quick workup on you if you want."

"No I'm fine," she laughed. She shook her head slightly and lifted her iPad up, smiling again. "I'll be fine, in fact, I'm going to make sure that Mr…" She glanced at her iPad, tapping it and grinning at Carol. "Mr. Evan Winters leaves this ER with a successful cure to whatever is hurting his ear." She spun on her heel, knowing that Carol was not going to let this go. Lyla waltzed to PE2, standing for Pediatric Exam 2, and pulled back the curtain. "Hello," she said, grinning at the little boy sitting on the bed, holding his left ear while his mother called someone from the corner of the room. "I'm Dr. Lyla Garrity, you can call me Lyla, what seems to trouble you today sir?"

"My ear."

"Well I'm going to help you out, can you move your hand for me please?" She set about examining him and ended up removing a bug from his ear; turned out he'd fallen asleep in some bushes earlier that day and when he woke up, the critter had burrowed into his ear. It was one of the more odd patients and situations she found herself in that day; thankfully everything was going smoothly.

Until towards the end of her shift, about twelve hours into her day, when the call came in about a trauma. "What's going on?" she called, as her hospital radio paged on her hip. She reached to flick it off, jogging towards the trauma intake room, the double doors wide open as an ambulance squealed to a stop in front of the bay.

"High school football game, trainer thinks the kid broke his neck," Carol said, grabbing a trauma tray. "I already paged Jefferson, he's on his way down, but he's finishing up a tumor removal, he's not going to get here for a few minutes. Travers is coming down from orthopedics, but she already said she doesn't do the neck, it's best to wait on Jefferson, the spine is his specialty."

"For a hospital this big we don't have another spinal specialist on call?" she snapped. She shook her head, walking out just as the paramedics pulled the stretcher down from the ambulance. "What do we got?" she shouted, grabbing the edge of the gurney. They shouted out vitals as she ran her workup and the portable x-ray came in and took scans of the teenager. Lyla didn't like to know their names yet; she blocked out when they said what the boy's name was as she shined light in his eyes. He seemed to jump up, his eyes widening. "What's your name?" she asked, stilling him with her hand on his chest.

"Um…it's…" he blinked a few more times. Fear filled his voice. "It's Mark."

"Well Mark, I'm Lyla, I'm a doctor at Vanderbilt University Hospital, you're in the emergency room right now, we just took an x-ray of your neck, do you have any problems breathing right now?" she asked, her voice steady as she flicked the light in his eyes again. Pupils responding normally. Good. She reached to his fingers. "Squeeze my hand Mark."

He grabbed her hand, squeezing tight. "Good," she said, keeping any relief out of her voice. Meant he wasn't a complete paraplegic. She reached down to his feet. "Can you wiggle your toes?" She looked at his feet, which weren't moving. "That's really good," she lied, walking back up to his head and peering down at him. She reached her hand over to cover his other hand, leaning down so he could hear her. "Do you feel any pain?"

"My…my neck…I heard it crack, I…what's wrong with it?" he asked, stammering. His eyes widened. "Did I break my neck!?"

"We're going to give you something to calm you down now," Lyla said, nodding to Carol, who injected a sedative into his IV. She smiled down at him. "I'm going to take good care of you Mark. You just rest now." She waited, looking up. "He out?"

"Yup."

"Intubate, he's going to surgery. Where the fuck is Jefferson?"

The door burst open, Harrison Jefferson, one of the biggest pricks that she'd ever met her in life, but then again most neurosurgeons were, since they thought they were God's gift to humanity, entered the trauma room. "Right here Ms. Garrity," he drawled. He still called her Ms. Garrity, she wanted to punch him, she thought, removing the X-ray films she'd just been handed and shoving them onto a lightbox. "Looks like we have ourselves a couple cracked vertebrae," he drawled.

"Shards of his vertebrae are going to be impinging his spine," Lyla said, pointing to the box. She turned around, staring down at Mark. This was the same injury as Jason. She glanced at his hands. They were already curled. She bit her lower lip, looking back at Jefferson. "I'd like to scrub in."

"You're an ER doctor, you remove splinters and give out antibiotics," Jefferson drawled, his annoying South Carolina accent making everything he said seem condescending. He smiled down at her. "You keep doing that Ms. Garrity."

"Doctor," she growled. She narrowed her eyes. "And I have experience with this injury. Let me scrub in." After browbeating him for several more minutes, about an hour later, she was scrubbing in, her eyes focused on the still body of Mark Gregson as the anesthesiologist fiddled with dials and gauges. She glanced at the clock. It was hour thirteen. Only another eleven hours left, she thought. Her elbow ached a little from the lab test earlier.

That seemed like a lifetime ago, sitting in Mexico. She shuddered slightly; Mark had the same injury as Jason. She shook thoughts of him out of her mind. This was different. This wasn't fixing her ex-boyfriend. She walked backwards through the double doors, holding her arms up under blue scrub sheets, as one of the nurses moved towards her to wrap her up for surgery. She still didn't break her gaze from him. I'll fix you, she thought, as a mask went over her nose and mouth, slightly stifling her for a minute.

Since I can't seem to fix anything else, she thought, walking towards the table and peering down at the open expanse of the boy's neck. She took a deep breath, looking over at Jefferson, who took the first scalpel and began to work. She closed her eyes briefly. I can't seem to fix anything else, but I'll fix this, she thought, accepting the retractor that a nurse passed her as she leaned over the neck.


	2. Insomnia

**2. Insomnia**

_"Lyla it's your father, I hate leaving messages, please call me, something's wrong with Tim."_

Delete.

_"Lyla this is your father. Call Tim."_

Delete.

_"Lyla Mary Garrity I am not calling you again. I want you to call Tim Riggins right now."_

Delete.

_"I'm not calling you after this one, this is the last time, you call him now young lady."_

Delete.

Lyla hated checking her messages from after surgery. There were times where it was empty, usually a couple of friends wanting drinks or her mom calling to check and make sure she was still alive. I'm almost thirty Mom, I think I'm fine, she always thought after that. When she'd come out of the operating room and seen a bazillion different calls from her father, she knew it had something to do with Tim. So when something with Tim popped up in her life, she figured rather than go to the source, she'd figure it out on her own. So she called Jason, leaning back against the wall of the ER, allowing herself a brief moment before she went to clean up before going home. It rang a few times and Jason finally answered. "Hey, it's Lyla."

He coughed a few times. "Are you aware what time it is?" he croaked.

"Yeah, I know, but my dad just left me about ten messages and something's up with Tim, what is it?" I don't want to know, I really don't. I'm still trying to figure out what the hell that situation is all about. Three days was not enough. All she knew was apparently, three days was enough to fall back in love with someone and be given one of the biggest ultimatums in her life. An ultimatum she really didn't want to think about right now. Nor did she want to think about the fact that try as she might to forget him, and succeed, in falling out of love, all it took was three days for the feelings to come right back to the surface. It was infuriating.

Jason chuckled. What are you laughing about, she wondered. "Oh, he's probably freaked out. Tim plays with Landry's band now."

Cue the spittake, she thought, her eyes widening. "Excuse me?"

"I think he does it because he's bored, but yeah, Landry plays in Dillon now, he's working on some big break or something, and he was short a drummer so Tim started playing with him from time to time. Your dad is probably freaked. I think other than that, he's okay." He paused for a moment before he whispered. "Lyla I am not going to be your spy. You two need to figure things out. I thought Mexico would do that, but clearly I was wrong."

Yeah, clearly, she thought, thinking back to the negative test. There was something kind of achy in her stomach just then. She frowned a little, her voice quiet. "I operated on a kid tonight…he had a broken neck. Incomplete C-4."

Jason was silent. Until he sighed. "Lyla, I'm not doing this."

"I fixed him."

"You can't fix him, he's going to be in a wheelchair."

"I fixed him," she whispered again. She fixed him; he was going to be able to walk again. With incredibly difficulty, but they'd done something different from Jason's surgery. Advancements were…well they were light-years beyond Jason's time of injury. She closed her eyes around tears. "Jason I fixed him…four weeks after Mexico…I fixed him."

"That's some God complex you have Garrity."

"Don't call me that," she snapped. That wasn't what he could call her. No one could call her that. She scowled. "That's not my name."

"Funny, seems to be the name you respond most to."

"I'm not talking to you anymore, I just wanted to let you know…I…I feel weird, I mean…it's like having flashbacks," she murmured, slumping down to the floor and drawing her knees up. She bit her lower lip, whispering. "All I want to do is call him, Jason, but I can't, you know I can't."

Jason snorted. "You can. You won't."

"My life is here."

"I'm not talking to you about this anymore Lyla. I told you in Mexico. If I have to choose, I choose him. I always choose him. Consider this me choosing." He waited a moment, whispering. "Goodbye Lyla."

Goodbye, she thought, hanging up the phone. It wasn't fair to him, I was stupid to call, she thought, closing her eyes again. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring straight ahead down the hallway. I'm tired, I need a shower and then to go to bed, but she also knew that she wasn't going to fall asleep. Shit, she thought, pushing to her feet. She ran her hand over her scrub cap, shaking her head.

Tim and Landry in a band. Good Lord. No wonder her dad thought something was terribly wrong with him. She smiled slightly; that was a sight. She'd like to see that. Not yet. No. Lyla turned a corner, picking up the assignment list. Exam Room 5, she thought. There was still another hour on her schedule.

She walked into the room, smiling at a young girl, a teenager, and her parents. "Hi, I'm Dr. Lyla Garrity, I'm going to be with you this evening. What's going on?"

"I have cancer," the teenager said, removing an oxygen mask from her mouth, taking a few deep breaths. She smirked. "My parents think I'm dying. I don't think I'm dying yet."

"Jessica," the woman said, her eyes closing. She shook her head, looking over to Lyla. "I apologize, she's…abrupt. She was having difficulty breathing. We brought her in, her physician is Dr. Andrews."

"I know Dr. Andrews, she's a great doctor," Lyla said, smiling as she checked all the information on the chart. She smiled again and reached for her stethoscope. "Lean back for me please, I'll see about making you more comfortable. Breathe in deep for me please."

A few hours later, she left the ER, having passed off Jessica to one of the incoming residents. It was hard, letting go of patients at the end of the day, but there was something about her…she glanced over at the girl, sleeping in a bed while her parents paced outside, on their cell phones. She frowned a little and reached to tug her coat tighter around her, leaving the hospital.

The sun was coming up by the time she walked into her apartment and closed the door behind her, tossing her keys on the table. She raked her fingers through her hair, shrugging off her coat and dropping everything before she went into her room. She crashed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I need to paint," she said out loud. She covered her stomach with her hands and closed her eyes. One month. It had been one month.

I need to make a decision. I fixed Jason…basically, she thought, glancing at the alarm clock. Twenty-four hours on. Twenty-four hours off. Then back to the grind. She rolled onto her side and pulled a blanket over her shoulders, staring at the picture on her other nightstand, which she'd framed after arriving back from Mexico. The ruins, the three of them, smiling up at the camera. Even Tim. "Fuck," she cursed, shaking her head.

She closed her eyes. "Go to sleep," she ordered herself. She moved back and forth across the bed, finally throwing back the covers and getting up, taking an Ambien before she crawled back into the bed again.

I can't go back to Texas, she thought, staring at the picture. He wants me to go back to Texas. I just…I'm an ER doctor. I can do that in Texas. I…I just fixed a kid's spine, she thought. Today I helped fix a kid's spine. I made Jason walk again, basically…but that wasn't really it. She sighed hard. I'm still a mess, she thought, wiping her hand over her face. She frowned slightly. There were kids in Dillon who…well…they needed good doctors. I'm a good doctor.

I still have to pass my Boards next year, she thought. "I can't do this," she said. She grabbed the phone, dialing the West Texas telephone number before she threw it aside. Shit. This is on you, he said. This is on you; this is your decision. My decision. She began to pace, reaching to press her palms into her eyes. I need to sleep.

She dropped down into a large chair in her living room, glancing around the sparsely decorated and furnished apartment. It didn't suit her to have a lot of things around, especially when she wasn't around. All it did was give her more things to dust on her random days off. I'd rather be at the hospital, she thought. I have nothing else in my life, might as well be working, but even she knew that you had to rest once in awhile.

"Mexico," she murmured, her hand dropping to her stomach. Empty. I thought for sure…there was almost no other way, she thought. That was the way her life would go, she knew it. There was no way she was pregnant, but…but wow, what were the odds of that, though? Everything was in favor of it and nothing. Weird.

Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe I just briefly wanted it because it would give her a reason to go talk to him instead of having to just…to just decide on her own. She reached for a blanket, tugging it over her and closed her eyes, resting her head on the chair's arm, bundling up in a ball. She took a deep breath and slowly released it before she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

"You're back," Lyla said, walking into an exam room and recognizing the girl from last week. Jessica Schmidt, the girl with cancer, she thought. Lymphoma, if she remembered right. She took the chart from Carol, who had just hooked her up to oxygen. She checked the vitals and reached for her stethoscope. "So what's going on today?"

"She's having trouble breathing," Jessica's father said, interrupting Jessica, who said "Nothing's wrong." He sighed at her, shaking his head. "You're six months into remission, Jessica, and you're having breathing problems. You're back in the ER for the second time in a week. Something is wrong."

Lyla shook her head, smiling politely. "Well I'll be the judge of that, sit up for me please Jessica." She glanced down at the girl's Tennessee Vols sweatshirt, smiling. "No Vanderbilt? You live in Nashville!"

"Vols," Jessica said. She shrugged, but the smile on her hard face pulled at the corners in spite of herself. "I got in. Early admission. I got my GED when the cancer came. Now I'm in remission and I'm fine," she said, the smile fading to a determined, hard look. It was kind of scary how much that look resembles mine, Lyla thought, listening to her breathe for a few seconds before she removed her stethoscope from her ears.

In fact, now that her mind was a bit clearer from the first time she'd seen Jessica, she was shocked at how much Jessica did resemble her. Dark hair, which was in a pixie cut, probably the longest it had been in the last few years, since her medical records indicated she'd had chemo for her treatment. She had bright green eyes and a very clear attitude, but it wasn't…wasn't a bad attitude. It was just…annoyance that she could very well be sick again. Determined to not be sick.

She cleared her throat, nodding towards the monitors. "Your pulse ox is a little low, you have some rattling in your lungs and your heart rate is rather high. I want to keep you for observation and we're going to run some blood tests. Check your white count and everything."

"Is it back?" Jessica's mother asked, fear evident in her face. "It's been six months!"

"I won't make any conclusions until we get lab results. I'm also ordering a CT and chest x-ray." To make sure it hasn't come back, she thought, glancing at Jessica. She smiled again; she'd gotten an eyeroll at the diagnostic test order. "You have a boyfriend Jessica?"

Pink flushed her cheeks. "No," she mumbled, looking up. She shrugged. "But I will."

"Jessica," her father warned.

"No," Jessica snapped. She glared at them all. "I have had cancer for five years! I'm going to be fine and I'm going to get a boyfriend and go to Tennessee and I'll be fine, I'm going to have a life! I'm eighteen!"

"Yes, you're eighteen," Lyla finished. She smiled again, holding up the iPad. "I'm going to order these tests and I'll check on you in a few minutes. Call for the nurse if you need anything." She turned around and left, walking over to the counter and leaned against it, speaking to Carol. "I'm putting in for CT and X-ray, see if you can get Randy and Miles to be the radiologists. They're really cute and I think this girl could use something pretty to look at."

Carol chuckled, picking up the phone. "Sure thing sweetie." She made the call to radiologist for those two and set it back down, smiling over at her. "So what's with you? I haven't talked to you in awhile. You still not sleeping?"

"I'm better." I think it was the pregnancy thing. She had been sleeping a bit more since that negative confirmation, but…she nibbled her lip, folding her hands on the counter. "Um…so did Jefferson ever call with an update on that kid from a couple weeks ago? The spinal fusion?" Don't let it get to you, she told herself, whatever the outcome. It's not personal; it's a job. Connect to the patient, but don't get overly involved. That was usually the downfall of a physician.

Carol leaned over to a stack of messages, rifling through them and passed her a couple. She took them, scanning a couple and then stopping on the one from Jefferson. _Mobile in left toe; feeling in left foot. _That's all I want, she thought, smiling. He'd be fine from here on out, she was sure of it. She tapped the messages on the counter and pushed away, walking off to her next patient.

She finished up with a few other patients when she got the results for Jessica. "What's going on?" Carol asked, leaning against her shoulder and scanning them. She sighed. "Well, that's something."

"Yeah," Lyla murmured. She nibbled her lower lip and clicked out of the program, walking away from the computer. She went into Jessica's room, frowning slightly at the emptiness. "Where are your parents?" she asked, closing the curtain around them.

Jessica shrugged, her eyes on the flatscreen television positioned in the corner of the room. She flicked to another channel, barely registering the image before flicking to another. "They went to call the priest. They think I'm dying again."

"They're just concerned about you," Lyla said, adjusting her oxygen tube and reaching up to press a button on the computer screen, which sent a signal to the blood pressure cuff on Jessica's arm, running another round of vital checks. She glanced down at her. Don't get too caught up in it, she tried to remind herself, but…hell, she just didn't care anymore. "So what are you going to go to college to study?"

The girl shrugged again, turning her head to look at the monitor. "My blood pressure is low," she mumbled, coughing a few times. She wrinkled a Kleenex in her hand, coughing a few more times and sniffing. "I don't know. I just want to go. Get away from people and…and meet new people." Her voice dropped to a mumble. "People that don't know me as the kid with cancer, you know?"

I think I know something about wanting to go somewhere else, where you're not known as…as anything. The girl whose father cheated on his family, the girl who cheated on her boyfriend with his best friend, or the girl that everyone just loved to hate. She smirked, reaching around to take off the blood pressure cuff. "Yeah, I know." She cleared her throat, her hand wrapping around the bar of the bed's guardrails. "You're 18, so I'll share the news with you." She smiled at Jessica's sudden look of fear. Her voice dropped, soothing. "Your CT was clear, your chest X-ray revealed some fluid in your lungs, and your bloodwork showed a rise in white blood cells. You're fighting pneumonia."

Most people would not be happy to hear that, but Jessica broke into a wide smile. "Pneumonia?" she whispered. She grinned. "That's all?"

"Well it's nothing to get excited about, but we're going to get you an inhaler so you can breathe easier and a nebulizer to take home and use before bed. The nurse will be in to show you how to use it. I have a call in your oncologist to make sure this is okay with her treatment of you and we'll go from there, but you're not leaving just yet." She held up her finger, warning. "You are in remission and this is not necessarily a great sign. We're keeping you overnight, but you can stay in the ER and you don't need to get to the oncology ward."

Jessica nodded, smiling. "Thank you."

"Yeah and hey," Lyla pushed away from the bed. She grinned. There was something special about this kid. She'd been through a lot and was still pushing forward. "College is going to be a good thing for you. You'll meet new people, meet a guy, and get to do whatever you want to do."

"I want to fall in love," Jessica blurted out. Her cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her gaze to her fingers, mumbling. "I don't know why I just said that to my doctor."

Well of all doctors, I understand, she thought, her fingers wrapping around the curtain. She didn't pull it back just yet, thinking about what to say. She took a deep breath, her voice quiet. "Well I've been in love Jessica and trust me, don't rush it. Just let it happen. You'll get it one day." She grinned. "I'll be back to check on you in awhile. Just rest. Call if you need something and when your parents get in, buzz us and we'll explain the situation to them."

Once she got an affirmative from Jessica, she left the room, thinking about what she'd just said. I shouldn't have told that to a patient. It was too personal…damnit, she thought, pushing the door open into the residents' room. I need to sleep. She set her phone onto Do Not Disturb, if anyone tried to page her, they'd know she was resting. It had been over fifteen hours, time for a break. She kicked off her shoes and crawled into a bunk, dragging the sheet over her head. She waited a moment and frowned. Eighteen and in recovery. A whole life ahead of her. Would I have done anything different?

When she was eighteen, she'd gone to Vanderbilt. She'd broken Tim's heart, but it had to be broken. I couldn't stay. It wasn't about him; it was about me. It was so sad. Just like Mexico. Just sad. I went to find myself. Lyla Garrity, who was just…just Lyla Garrity. With no other influences. She'd found herself, she'd…she'd done what she wanted to do but now here she was, kind of in the same boat.

Jason said she was lonely. That she was just kind of living. She needed to be free. I'm free, she thought defensively. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the bottom bunk. I'll go back to him, but not yet. I still have…have plans…not that she knew what those plans were. She'd decided her future; be the best ER doctor she could possibly be. She loved it. She planned to specialize in pediatric emergency care and she would get board certified and she'd stay in Nashville because she wanted to stay. If she went to New York or Los Angeles or somewhere else, it would be because she wanted, not because someone was pressuring her.

That was the thing. Tim wasn't pressuring her. He was matter-of-fact. He always was matter-of-fact. This is your decision Garrity. Not mine. I'm not leaving Texas. That's enough for me. I choose him Lyla, I always choose him. Both Jason and Tim knew what they wanted. Hell, Tim was on drugs and even he knew what he wanted. Why couldn't she? Why didn't Mexico make it all as clear for her as it had for the two of them?

At least we're friends again. Sort of, she thought, closing her eyes. She felt her fingertips drifting back to her stomach again. I don't want children right now. I'm almost thirty, I have to finish my residency, pass Boards, and get a fellowship. Then I'll focus on that. You need a father at least, the little voice said to her.

Stop it, she screamed inwardly. You're going insane. She wiped at her face and closed her eyes again, turning on her side and drifting into that strange half-asleep/half-awake power nap that her body needed. Thoughts of Tim drifted away, like they usually did. It was like her mind couldn't focus on him but for a few minutes at a time, it was so exhausting.


	3. Life

**3. Life**

"Good morning Glen," Lyla chirped, entering the ER after going home for a couple of hours to shower and change out her scrubs. She had a load in the washer right now; she'd come down to her ugly salmon color ones from her time doing her obstetrics rotation. She preferred her navy blue ones, which she was wearing right now, along with her Dillon scrub cap.

I actually slept last night, she thought, feeling relieved. She wrapped her stethoscope around her neck, rocking back on her pink and silver Nikes, and surveyed the intake for the last couple of hours. She checked the list of available rooms, frowning slightly and glanced at Glen, the head nurse on duty that day. "What's up Dr. G?" he asked, catching her gaze. "You look perplexed."

"Because I am, did Jessica Schmidt get transferred to oncology or a bed in general last night?" she asked, typing in her name into the computer. "I wanted to check on her today, she wasn't supposed to be released just yet."

"Um, who was that again?"

"Eighteen-year old, six-months in remission, presented with pneumonia. I wanted her overnight for observation, but I went home around two this morning when my shift ended and she was fine..." she said, her heart beginning to beat hard as she scanned the computer, clicking through the records for a Jessica Schmidt. She swallowed hard, her voice soft. "Did she get discharged?" She was beginning to have a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

Glen frowned, leaning over her to set a batch of files in a bin for the billing department. "Oh, yeah, her, um, if I remember, she crashed around four this morning."

Crashed!? She whipped her head around, ignoring the computer, which wasn't providing any information. "She crashed?" she demanded, pushing by him for the files in the billing bin. Why did no one page her!? "What the fuck? Why did she crash, she had pneumonia!"

Glen didn't answer, but another doctor, one she happened to have graduated with did. "Developed a blood clot overnight," Paul said. He reached over and lightly rubbed her shoulder, tugging her against him. He was about seven feet tall and two-hundred pounds, so it was like getting pulled in by a big bear. She felt numb, not registering it. "I'm so sorry Lyla, I know you treated her earlier yesterday. It was nothing you did."

That was always the first thing they said to each other when a patient passed. It was nothing you did. Well hell it's always something we did, she thought, her mind going blank. Why? Why did that happen? She blinked a few times, reaching to push at a stray strand of hair in her eyes. She swallowed hard. It was pneumonia. At least three other doctors agreed with her diagnosis including the radiologist, the oncologist, and her attending physician. She glanced at him, whispering. So how..."Blood clot?"

Paul nodded in confirmation, leading her away and speaking quietly to her, explaining. "She started having trouble breathing around three-thirty, she said there was a pain in her chest, so we did another chest X-ray and there it was. She began to crash and we got her to the OR, but it was too late, it had already traveled to her heart. It happens Lyla. Cruel twist of fate, I guess." Paul sighed hard, frowning. He nodded to the door, his voice dropping. "If you want to take off…Carol mentioned that you were talking with her…said there was a bit of a connection."

No, I'm…I'm fine, I'm just…she blinked a few more times, reaching to touch her forehead again. "She was eighteen," she whispered, lifting her eyes to him. Why can't I stop wrapping my mind around that? How many other kids did she see who were sick? Some died. She mourned for them because she cared, but her life didn't stop. Not now. Why now, she wondered again. "She was eighteen, she was going to college, she wanted to fall in love…I just…" Why the fuck did these things happen? Why did this stuff even have to happen, it was just…it was just wrong! It was just wrong that a girl who did nothing but want something so nice, so pure, and she just…fate?

Fuck fate, Lyla thought, turning away from Paul and composing herself. It was wrong of her to take this so personally. It wasn't professional, but...hell she really didn't understand right now. It hurt. She was in a weird emotional state right now. Maybe that was why. She blinked through some tears, leaving her friend and walking to an exam room, knocking lightly on the door. She composed herself, blinking away the tears. "Hello," she said, greeting a young woman holding a toddler in her arms. "I'm Dr. Garrity, what seems to be the problem here today?"

So it went like that through much of the day. She swallowed her pain at losing Jessica and she went through patients the way she normally did. She prescribed antibiotics for ear infections, she removed a marble from someone's nose, and she had one trauma with a girl who was in a car accident. Who would be fine, she had a broken femur and a ton of scratches and bruises, but she'd be fine. I'm a good doctor, I didn't do anything wrong, but fate did, she thought, sitting at a computer in the main admin area, while Carol fussed with things next to her. It didn't stop her from thinking about it though. Which she blamed on the fact that in the last month her entire life had kind of turned on its end. This...it struck too close to home for her right now.

Eighteen and…and her life was gone like that. I was eighteen once. That kid with the broken neck…something that had almost ruined Jason's life and nowadays if you treated it instantly…he would be okay. He might not have the life he imagined, he might never play football again, but he'd be okay. Then there was her reason, the one reason she thought she could have to go back to Tim, and it never even existed, even though now she kind of wished…she bit her lower lip, glancing at Carol. "Do you think that I'm kind of…" she nibbled her lip again, dropping the pen in her fingertips to the counter, her voice soft, so only they could hear each other. "Do you think I'm kind of…intense and…and maybe a bit lonely?"

She thought it might take a moment, but Carol didn't hesitate. "Yes." She blinked, lowering her half-moon glasses on a chain to drop around her neck. She leaned sideways against the counter, moving closer to her. "Lyla, sweetie, I know you have friends. I know you've had some boyfriends and…and yet I don't think you're really satisfied. The closest I thought you'd come to that was after you took those three days to Mexico, but then you came back and you were still a little sad. More free, but…but sad." She took a deep breath. "Don't take that young girl's death personally. She was ill, Lyla. Sometimes we have patients come in and they don't make it. Sometimes they do. You just have to keep doing your job, which you're wonderful at, and focus on the good. Like that young man whose spine you helped put back together." Carol smiled again, her eyes softening at the edges. "And I don't know what's going on, but…but maybe go back to Mexico again." She smiled, her voice quiet. "That's the most happy I've seen you, those couple days after you got back."

Go back to Mexico, yeah…that was not…but it was. She smiled slightly, reaching to pull off her scrub cap. Everything in slow motion. It was like the idea just appeared, but she was deciding it as she moved. "I…I know what I need to do." It was just…there it was. Right in front of her. Call it a sign or something. Fate. A twist of fate, a sign, she didn't care. She wasn't going to ignore it now that she could see it. She laughed, closing her eyes and covering her face with her hands. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt feverish. I need to do this. This is it…the simplest thing she could do and it was right there. She jumped off the stool, thinking of Jessica. Love. That's all she wanted and she didn't get it. I had it. I had it and I want it. I still want it. I want to be free. God, I hate him so much, she laughed, pulling off her badge and running around the counter. "Where are you going?" Carol laughed. "Your shift isn't over!"

"I have to go, I'm so sorry, but I just…I'll call you later, I…I'll get my things later, but I need to go!"

I have to go. I have to do this, I can't sit on this anymore or I'm going to go insane. Life was too short and quite honestly, I'm a drama junkie and if this isn't nothing but drama, I don't know what is, she thought, as she ran to her locker, grabbed her bag and didn't even bother changing from her scrubs before running out again. I'm a woman on a mission, she thought, nothing but one thing in her head. It was the only thing that could be in her head at this point. "Where are you going?" Paul asked, as she ran by him. He frowned, calling after her. "Lyla! Where the hell are you going!?"

The automatic doors swung open as she marched through them. She laughed, a smile wide on her face as her eyes shone bright. It was all so clear. I can't believe it took me this long, she thought. I guess I just needed…perspective. She spun around, her arms outstretched and shouted for everyone to hear. "Texas!"


	4. Texas

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews :)

* * *

**4. Texas**

"Thank you," she said, passing cash over to the taxi driver from the airport, making sure to give him a really good tip for driving all the way out into the middle of nowhere. She smiled, climbing out of the back, holding her tote bag in her hand. She took a deep breath and walked up the driveway, stopping to study the two trucks parked side by side. One was shiny dark blue, a brand-new model, and looked like it had just come off the showroom floor. The one beside it, looked like its more aged, angry grandfather, she thought with a little smile.

It's cold, she thought, setting her black duffel on the top step of the wraparound porch. This was the first time she'd ever been here. It had taken a long time for her to find her way out here, directing the cabbie to the wrong location a couple of times. It was beautiful, she thought, taking it all in. She also needed to just…to just prepare. The house was designed like an old ranch homestead, one-story but…but big, she thought, looking up at the double doors with a panther doorknocker. Probably a gag gift. Of course he would put it up. She took a deep breath and left her bag, hearing sounds coming from the backyard.

The heels of her cowboy boots clicked a little on the worn, wide planks of the porch floor. She fiddled with her Vanderbilt class ring, walking down the steps in the back. When she turned a little, to study the back of the house, she saw nothing but windows. I bet this gets good views of the sunrises, she thought, walking down a path towards a large pond. The sounds were coming from him, knocking a hammer into planks. There was a small rowboat tied up to a dock.

She cocked her head slightly and crossed her arms over her chest, watching him work. His hair was short, but growing out again and it fell in his eyes. He kept blowing it back. There was a toolbelt wrapped around his hips and the flannel shirt he wore was open over a sweat-stained gray t-shirt and rolled to his sleeves. The jeans he had on were torn at the pockets, knees, and ankles. If there was a way to look it, he looked kind of like what she thought Texas would look like if it were a person. This was just…she had no idea. There had been other guys. None of them were like this. None of them drove her this crazy. She never wanted to kill someone but love them more at the same time.

I guess that's why they don't write songs and stories of the ones that come easy, she thought. "Son of a bitch," she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her hands. I guess that's why you're lucky when you get something that didn't seem real. She kept twisting her ring around, finally tossing her hair from her eyes and lifting her head again.

He'd caught sight of her and had stood up, the hammer in his hand hanging loosely at his side. He tossed it down on the dock and reached around to the toolbelt, dropping it beside the hammer. Very slow, methodical movements. Great, keep me waiting, she thought. He watched her for a moment; they were too far away, she couldn't see what he was thinking. Not that she'd be able to understand it if she saw him…he kept a mask on his emotions. Until he didn't anymore, but it took awhile to get to that point and usually no one else saw it.

She smiled, lifting her fingers slightly. Hi, she felt like calling, but she just bit her lower lip, smiling in spite of herself as he walked towards her. I don't know why, she thought, I don't know why I'm not just running towards him, but…hell, they could wait a few more minutes. She started towards him and then stopped as they met halfway. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hi," he said. He wasn't really smiling; he was curious. As he should be. He didn't seem angry. He shook his head a little, his voice quiet. "What are you doing here?"

I really don't know, but…but I'm glad I'm here. She looked away, out at the land. She'd never been here before. It was his sanctuary. Oh my God, if only I knew, she thought, shaking her head. This was why he never wanted to leave and hell if she could understand it. It was just so…so pretty. It was early evening and the sun was beginning to set, but it wasn't completely over the horizon just yet. So everything was pale orange. She turned her head around, peering up at how the shadows played on the sloping roof of the ranch house. He'd built all this himself. And to think I wanted more for him, she thought, shaking her head. Hell if I knew.

She looked back at him, tears shining in her eyes. He cocked his head again slightly, waiting on her answer. Why are you here? I don't know anymore. "I had a patient," she began, taking a deep breath. She smiled sadly. "She was eighteen and she just…she just died. She wanted to fall in love and…and I didn't know why I left but…but on the plane here I just…" She took a deep breath. It had taken the entire six hours of plane travel, jumping all over Texas before she landed in Dillon, for her to figure it out and even then she wasn't sure.

She took another deep breath, gesturing up to the sky. "I don't want regrets Tim. That's all you ever talk about and I really don't think that you have any. I mean…I mean I think you did at some point or what you've done, you might have wanted to do differently, but I don't think you have any anymore. I don't want any. A girl was eighteen and she just died when she was recovering from something that…it didn't even kill her, it was something random and…and all she wanted was to fall in love and she didn't get that. I have that. I had that and…and I don't want to give it up." She bit her bottom lip hard, drawing blood. "Tim I just don't want to be fifty and have kids and be married and wake up one morning and realize that you were the one and I was the stupid one and it was gone forever."

And…there was more. She reached to push at her forehead, her eyes closing tight. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it and looked back up at him again. He was just waiting on her. "I have what I want Tim. You wanted me and you moved on when you couldn't get it and you have this and I could not be happier for you. Even in Mexico…I don't know Tim, you were so screwed up but you still were sure of things. Even I'm not sure."

Now I'm just rambling. Hell. Just say something, she wanted to say. She blew out a hard breath and then frowned, glaring at him, anger slamming into her. "Will you…stop standing there! Freaking say something!"

He just smiled a little, shaking his head, but said nothing. Well fine then. She bit her lip again. Tears choked her as they began to trickle down her cheeks. "This is going to be really, really hard and I'm not saying that I'm here forever, I just…I just need to see you and…and Mexico! I ran off to Mexico and now I'm here! This is…"

I'm insane, I'm absolutely insane and I've lost my mind. "I am crazy!" she laughed, meeting his eyes. "I am a doctor! I just…just left both times and you!" She laughed again, shouting. The rage was back again. "I hate you so much! You fuck with my head and my life and you were…you were supposed to just be a guy I cheated with in high school and then dated for a few months, so how the hell are you supposed to still be in my life ten years later!?"

That infuriated her. Some people could be with their high school sweethearts. She knew that Matt Saracen and Julie Taylor had gotten married. Others, no. You moved on, you had a life somewhere else. Why the hell… "Why can't that be me!?" she screamed, pressing her fists to her chest. "Why does it have to be you!? You're like a child, I have to watch you all the time and I have to think of you all the time and you're always into things and we don't agree on anything and we have nothing in common and…"

She drew another breath, prepared to give him the riot act when he did that thing he tended to do and grabbed her hard by the face, yanking her up roughly into a kiss that had her toes curling in her boots. Oh shit, she thought, wrapping her arms around him and lifting up as he spun her around a few times. I'm dizzy, I feel like I'm going to faint, she thought, falling back on her heels when he set her down, but all she did was break away to take a deep breath before kissing him again, her back bending slightly as she pulled him closer to her. They finally broke away after a few minutes and she saw spots. I can't breathe, she thought, lifting her eyes up to him. He was swallowing in gulps of air. He grabbed her again before she knew what was happening and lifted her off her feet, carting her back into the house.

All Lyla managed to see for a few minutes was an actually nicely decorated house before he was dropping her onto the edge of his bed. She shook off her coat and reached down to yank off her boots before he was grabbing her again. "We need…" she took a few breaths, her eyes on his as she stroked his cheeks. "We need to talk…we can't…damnit."

He was already shaking his head. "We'll talk later," he decided.

She nodded, her words tumbling together. "Okay, if you insist," she laughed, grabbing him again. Talk later, sure. She really didn't want to talk at all, to be honest with you.


	5. Decisions

**5. Decisions**

"You want to talk about it?"

Lyla poured herself a few more fingers of whiskey into a mason jar, which was really the only form of drinking utensil she'd managed to find that didn't have children's book characters on them. She imagined those glasses were for his nephews when they visited. She shrugged, taking a few long sips of the whiskey. It burned down her throat, but she needed it. "Not really," she answered.

"Okay," Tim said. He tossed the crusts of his pizza around on his plate before he took a bite of one before setting it back down. He chewed for a few minutes before swallowing and sitting up, leaning his shoulder against hers. They were sitting on the floor of his living room, in front of a fire. They'd only dragged themselves out to drink and eat before they planned on going back into his room, but right now she wasn't focused on that. Right now she was kind of focused on doing doing or saying anything to screw this up, because it was getting a little awkward, both of them now realizing what they'd done and what might happen. "You know," he said, dragging his thumb over her wrist. "You took less time than I thought."

That was a lie, at least him thinking of her. "You didn't think about me," she murmured, meeting his eyes. She knew him; he let her go the minute he left Mexico. Tim's compartmentalization skills were amazing. She took another long sip of whiskey, setting the jar down and reached over for his pizza crusts. She took a bite and through chewing, spoke. "You didn't think of me one bit. Meanwhile, I couldn't think of anything but you." She rolled her eyes. "Hell, I couldn't even sleep."

"Should have taken a pill," he said, smiling darkly.

You're an ass, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. She smirked at him, her voice quiet. This might send him going crazy, but oh well. Needed to be shared, because they had to be honest with each other now. "I thought I was pregnant. Kind of messed with me for a bit."

And there it goes, she thought, seeing the fear and shock on his face. He took a deep breath and then released it. "Ah…" He immediately frowned. Then he edged away from her slightly; like she suddenly told him she had rabies. "You're…not…"

"No," she said. The relief instantly appeared and he smiled slightly before letting it go, putting the concern on. She snorted. "I was so glad when that test was negative, but…but then I got sad a bit. I kind of wanted a baby because it'd be easier to come back to you, but…but that would have been an excuse. Not the real reason."

Funny how I didn't want to talk to you and now here I am talking. She looked sideways at him again. He frowned slightly. What, she wondered. Just say it. "And what is the real reason?" he murmured. He frowned deeper. It creased his forehead and his eyes narrowed. It was a look she recognized from high school, when he was focusing on a play. Whoever the defenseman was that got that look, she always hoped they had good health insurance. "Because," he continued, keeping his voice steady. "We left Mexico and didn't know what was going to happen. I gave you the reason and here you are, but…" He frowned again. No but, she thought, trying to move to him, but he pushed back slightly. He looked away, his voice quiet. "But I don't want you to decide later on that this was…that it was like…the heat of the moment or something and you leave again."

If I left again you'd recover, she wanted to say, but she knew what he was saying. He would recover, like he had before, but that would be the end of it. If she ever wanted to come back…he'd never let her again. This was it. No more, they'd spent too much time, energy, tears, and emotion on this. This thing between them. "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I know what you mean."

"Because it's good, that you…you're here, but…but a kid died and here you are, you know," he said, his voice quiet. He took a deep breath. "Garrity you do crazy things when stuff get hard."

Yeah, I know that too. I run to Mexico. I cheat on my boyfriend. I crash my car into my dad's car dealership. I do crazy things when things get hard. A psychologist she saw briefly in college told her it was her version of pulling a fire alarm. Adrenaline rush and all. Jason said she liked drama. Maybe that was her way of coping with it, she didn't know. She leaned against him, her voice soft. "Well I'm here, that's a start."

"And you're going to stay?" He leaned his head to hers, whispering. He reached over and lightly brushed his fingers over her wrist, turning her hand and began to drag his fingers around her palm, making patterns. He began to trace letters. "Because Garrity…this thing…you and me…" He lifted his eyes to hers. Say it, she thought. Just say it. He looked back down at her hand, tracing letters again. "I'm done after this. I told you."

That makes it so final, she thought, swallowing hard. "You're done?"

"This is on you and if you can't do this, then I'm done. I take myself out of the whole thing."

Good. You should be happy, she thought. She closed her eyes, resting her head to his again and turned her face slightly, their noses brushing. "I just want you happy." That's all he needed. He needed…stability. He craved it. Tim was never known for being a monogamist, but that's what he was at heart. If he could get a wife and kids and do the whole thing the way that normal people did it, he'd be one happy guy. He'd be able to sleep, she thought. And he wouldn't need the pills to focus on things.

She pulled away a little, sipping her mason jar of whiskey. She pulled it away, shaking her head. "You need glasses."

"I can see fine."

"No I mean…" she smiled, laughing when she saw that he was also smiling. She nudged her shoulder into his. "Idiot."

"Smarty-Pants." He reached around her for her jar, sipping. He frowned. "Just drink from the bottle."

"I'm not a heathen."

"Well I am, so gimme the bottle."

They drank for a few minutes, staring straight into the fire. It was quite large, taking up one side of the living room wall. The hearth stretched out and there were very little bits of decorating around the house, but there was a wrought iron fireplace tool set, a sleeve filled with logs, and a large basket full of various children's toys, most of them Nerf guns. She looked around the room; it was large, with big windows everywhere and almost nothing on the walls. "You need to decorate."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like it the way it is." He made a face. "And because Mindy, Becky, and Tyra want to decorate and those three have no taste at all."

Well she didn't know about Becky but she was quite sure Mindy and Tyra weren't too horrible. Although maybe they were, who the hell knew, she didn't. She'd been gone for a long time. She stood up, tugging down his t-shirt, which she'd thrown on over a pair of his boxers, which she'd rolled up several hundred times at the waistband to get them to stay on. She had a problem walking around in just her underwear and shirt. She turned on her heel, looking around again. "You could put up a nice painting here," she said, gesturing over the brown leather sectional wrapping around one wall and stretched out to break off the living room from the kitchen.

"No paintings."

"And a bookcase right here…" she said, stretching her hands beneath the windows. She spun on her heel again, pointing to the entertainment unit in the corner. "And if you get a nice runner over the top of this, you could put up some vases or…whoa!" She yelped when he grabbed her around her waist, pulling her around to his chest. She grinned, her lips hovering over his, whispering. "There's a picture of you in your football uniform that I think would look nice on that wall over there."

"No pictures of me in my football uniform."

She arched her eyebrow. "What about that one of me in your football uniform?" Let's lighten this conversation up a little. She grinned, long and slow, running her tongue slowly over her teeth. "Remember that one?"

He wiggled his eyebrows, whispering against her mouth. "I was thinking the cheerleading one."

"That was very X-rated."

"I never knew pom-poms could be used as clothing before."

"Well they weren't really used as clothing," she grinned, spinning away from him and walking into the kitchen. It was nice to joke about their previous relationship antics, but she sensed that it was covering up something else. It was easier to joke and be cavalier than it was to actually sit down and focus on things. Which they needed to do, but right now…she didn't want to do that but she didn't want to get too comfortable. She set her jar down in the sink, taking a couple of plates and setting them beside the jars.

A moment passed and she felt him come up behind her, his arms tightening around her waist. "Are we done having fun now?" he whispered.

She flinched. He wasn't kidding anymore either. But he seemed annoyed too. "Tim."

"Lyla."

"Tim," she groaned, turning around, but he'd already let go of her, walking over to the fridge. I don't want to do this now. We were having a good time, can't we just have a good time for a few more minutes? She trudged over to him, finding him in a room off the main foyer, which was kind of set up like a study or an office. There was a drumset in the corner. She frowned, peering at the drums. "I thought it was just a hobby."

"It is a hobby," he said defensively.

"Seems like a new career path."

"It is not…forget the drums Garrity!" Well I'm getting to you, you're calling me by my nickname, she thought, cocking her head. She smiled a little and he scowled. "Why are you smiling?"

"I'm just…you want to talk about this?"

"No."

"Then don't get mad at me!"

"I'm not mad at you! Forget it!" He stormed by her, going down the hallway and into his room, which took up most of the length of the house. He reached down and pulled off his t-shirt, throwing it into a ball on the floor. He fell backwards onto the bed and she sighed, walking over and fell back down on the other side of him. They were facing opposite directions on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, speaking first. "I wanted you. You're here now. Make it that Garrity."

It was so easy to say it that way. "I have a life in Nashville," she murmured.

"No you don't."

That was blunt. True, but blunt. She swallowed hard. "I'm in the middle of my residency. It'll be hard to transfer."

"Careers come and go."

That was easy enough. She sighed again, whispering. "I don't want to end up like my mother." And there was something that he couldn't just wipe off with a less than five syllable response. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows, her voice quiet as she stared straight at him. It was something that just kind of popped up into her head, but it was true. "I was engaged to Jason when I was sixteen. I was planning my life around a guy and it went to hell. I'm a good person, I'm smart and I've got a good job that I have to work hard for. I'm not some guy, like my mom was, but…but I don't want to come back and be like her."

He sat up on his elbow. What, she wondered, are you thinking right now. Then he smiled. He looked down at his hands and back up to her, his voice quiet. "You think I would ever hurt you the way your dad hurt your mom? Or…or that you wouldn't be the only thing to me?"

"And there's the irony," she said, smiling again. She rolled onto her stomach, turning so that they were looking at each other. Her fingers fiddled with his for a moment. "Because I didn't stay the first time because there was more out there than just this. I got it and…and there was more for you than me and you got it. You're still working through it and I'll help you, but I don't want to come back and still be the only one for you Tim. There are other things."

Very slowly, he grinned, his eyes dancing. "I know there are. You showed me."

"You're better."

"I am better," he agreed. He shrugged again, his forehead flickering slightly in a frown. "Still have nightmares. I still…still wonder sometimes about things, but…" He pushed it away quickly, smiling again. "Mexico wasn't bad."

"No, it really wasn't," she said, chuckling. She reached or him, her arms going around his neck as she brought herself up on her knees. She brushed her lips over his, smiling. "I want to be here. I mean it."

Tim nodded. "Good. Because I just…" He frowned again. Say it, she thought; I know what you're thinking. It's an honest fear. "I just don't want you to be here because you think you…because you're upset about that girl who died."

I know what you're asking, she thought again. She touched her forehead to his and closed her eyes. Lord help me, she prayed. Don't screw this up Lyla Garrity. "I'm upset about her, yes, but…but I'm a doctor and…and sometimes I have patients who die and I can't let it upset me." He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him, already knowing his line of thought. They knew each other well. "And sometimes it really does, because that's just the person I am, but this…this was just a wakeup call. I wasn't sleeping." Her eyes opened, meeting his. "I wasn't sleeping and I just…I don't think it was anything but I left Mexico and was…was still…" She shook her head, whispering. "Mexico helped you and Jason become friends. Helped him and I become friends. It opened up your eyes and…and mine, but…but I was still so confused and I'm still confused." She smiled. "But I'd rather be here and work it out than somewhere else. Do you get that?"

He lifted her knuckles to his lip, kissing them. "I love you," he said, reaching around to pull her face to his, kissing her again. "And this is going to suck, but I'm going to say it." Don't say it, whatever it is, she thought, frowning. He groaned, lightly moving away from her. Oh no, really don't say it, she thought, turning as he got up from the bed. He turned around, picking up a shirt and pulled it on. No, really, don't say it, she thought, frowning. He fell back into a chair, leaning over his knees and smiling. "We a break."

Don't say it, she thought, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "What are you talking about?"

"We have to…" He made a face. "Whatever. A break. This is real Garrity and I'm not letting you screw it up."

She smiled. "What makes you think it'll be me?"

"Because it's always you. I've just been waiting around this whole time."

That was kind of true, she thought, lifting an eyebrow. Her voice was soft. "What about those times where you got scared and tried to make me push you away? Mr. Passive Aggressive?"

"What about all those times I was a very good boyfriend who loved you and all you did was push me away?" he repeated, his voice soft. He smiled again. "And I'm not the best person these days Garrity. I drink too much, I hate my job, and I'm a felon…"

"You are not a felon."

He snorted. "That's sweet of you to say, but to the State of Texas I'm a felon." Tim ran his tongue over his teeth. He glanced at his hands and lifted his eyes again, whispering. "And I want you Lyla. I want this, but it's the last time. So we need to…it can't be like Mexico." Frenzied and psychotic, she thought. "And I can't believe I'm the mature one right now."

"I can," she said. She smiled, climbing off the bed and walked over to him, leaning against him and her arms going around his neck. "So where do you want me to sleep while we…do this thing?"

"You can sleep here. I'll go crash with Becky."

Excuse me, she thought, arching an eyebrow. "What did you just say?"

Tim smiled, chuckling. "She's married."

"Since when has that stopped you?"

"Fair point, but Luke is a friend."

She smiled again, tighter this time, her voice quiet. "And since when has that stopped you?"

His smile fell. A darkness kind of passed over them. "Fair point," he murmured, his eyes still focused on hers. He shrugged, whispering. "I'll take the couch."

"You don't have a guest room?"

"With bunkbeds."

She kissed him again, pushing away. "I'll take the bunkbed." They both pulled apart completely. She walked over to the door, pausing with her hand on the doorknob. She turned around, smiling at him again. He seemed depressed. "It's a good decision Tim." Let's do this slowly. The right way. She stepped out of the room and grabbed her duffel from the front door, carrying it into the guest room, which was painted blue and more decorating to it than the rest of the house. It was full of toys, the set of bunkbeds and a small trundle bed in the corner.

Well I'm glad I'm not tall, she thought, setting down her bag and reached for the red and blue quilt, pulling it back to reveal Avengers sheets. She smiled, looking around the room. It was…he loved his family so much. This was the most complete room in the entire house and it was for his nephews. Well, she thought, falling back into the bed. She pulled the quilt over her shoulders, settling into the pillows. Guess I'll go to bed. See what tomorrow would bring.


	6. Family

**6. Family**

"Why is Landry in Dillon?" Lyla asked, holding her cup of coffee up and scanning the diner. It was new to the town, but it seemed to have folded in nicely with the refusal of the town to accept anything mainstream. There was a Target in Westerbee and she'd discovered that there were a couple of gourmet-type shops, at least, gourmet in Dillon, around the main street. She frowned over the top of her cup. "I thought he was in school."

"I don't know, he dropped out or something."

"You're friends."

"We are not friends." Tim reached over to her plate, snagging the bacon. She scowled, but he purposefully bit into a piece anyway, smiling as he chewed. He swallowed and then reached for her coffee cup, taking a sip.

"Get your own!"

"I don't like coffee, just a sip once and while." He shuddered, making a face and stuck out his tongue. "What is in that?"

"Cream. Sugar. Some other stuff." They didn't have vanilla syrup, so she'd squirted just a bit of honey to give it that extra kick that she usually got from her lattes. She'd have to check out the 'gourmet coffee place' as her father called it, which was just a small coffee shop. She looked out the window, frowning as she saw her dad's monster Suburban driving into the parking lot. "Shoot."

Tim followed her gaze out the window. He shrugged. "Ignore him."

This was going to be interesting, she thought, turning her fork over in her waffles. Tim reached for the fork and took a few bites of her waffles before he just took the plate. Someone was extra hungry that morning, she thought, noting his empty plate. Of course, he'd gotten hardly anything and now was moving on to everything else. She lifted her head as Buddy walked into the diner, went to the counter and got a cup of coffee to-go. He turned around and stared at her.

She lifted her fingertips, wiggling them in his direction and smiled. Uh-oh, she thought instantly, her tongue running over her teeth. Very slowly she leaned back in the booth, her arm lifting up over the top of it. She gestured to the table. "Have a seat Daddy."

"I don't think I will." Buddy glanced between her and Tim, who was still eating her waffles, looking completely innocent. In this situation he actually was innocent, which she couldn't believe. He chuckled. "What are you doing here baby? You don't call?"

"Daddy don't get mad."

"I'm not getting mad." Yes you are, she thought, seeing his face begin to turn red. He glared at Tim. "Tim Riggins."

"Mr. Garrity." Tim finished waffles and grabbed the check sitting at the end of the table. He scooted out of the booth. "I'm gonna' pay. Let you guys have a second." Oh it will be longer than that, I imagine.

Buddy immediately took the spot vacated by Tim. "I thought you have a job in Nashville," he said, his hand tightening on the coffee cup. He frowned deeply. "I want to know how come you're not there and instead, you're sitting here with Tim Riggins having breakfast." He scowled again. "After what I imagine was a night together."

She instantly held up her finger. "No," she warned. There were boundaries. "You don't talk about my relationship with Tim like that."

"I'm not stupid, I know Tim Riggins."

"And I know Tim and I want you to know that I came to Texas and left my job because I had a patient who died," she said, her voice quiet. She didn't want to talk about it with him, especially not in a diner, but she needed to share this information with her father because he was going to be annoying her about it for days, weeks, months, and possibly years to come. Buddy was very clear that he did not want her returning to Texas anymore than she had wanted to stay when Tim asked. Just like he didn't want her falling right back with Tim, even though she knew that this version of Tim he was a little bit happier with.

And he recognized that she held sway with him, or else he wouldn't have left her a thousand messages wanting to know how come Tim was in a band as a drummer. Buddy shook his head slightly, his face falling. "Baby I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Thanks," she murmured. She looked up from her hands, lifting her eyes to him and smiled softly. "She was a young girl and just…well I went to Mexico with Tim and Jason a few weeks ago and it just…it was a lot at once so I decided to come to Texas to be with Tim." She set her jaw, her voice concise and clear. No bones about it. "And Daddy I'm going to stay. For now. I want to see how this works with Tim because my career means everything to me and I don't want to miss out on that one day and end up like you and mom, fighting for the rest of my life back." She climbed out of the booth, throwing down the tip that Tim had forgotten, because she knew there was no way in hell he was going to come back with Buddy stewing anger. She glared down at her father. "And you can be mad at me for returning or you can be happy that I'm going to try to work it out with the man I love. Who, by the way, you love too or else you wouldn't have given two shits about him after he went to jail and all you'd have done was say 'I told you so.'"

There we go, she thought, her smile pulling a little wider on her lips. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, patting his shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going to be in town. I'll have lunch with you sometime this week, but I need to work on some things right now."

When she made a move to step away, Buddy reached up and grabbed her arm, pulling her back slightly. She glanced down, waiting patiently. What, she felt like asking, but after a moment, he let go of her arm and shook his head slightly, reaching for his coffee cup. "You guys went to Mexico and Tim came back and he was smiling." He waited a moment and then looked up, smiling slightly. "He hadn't smiled in a long time Lyla. He was smiling." He stood up, patting her shoulder. "And I don't think it was because of the sunshine."

No, I don't imagine it was, she thought, smiling at him again. "See you later Daddy." She shifted her bag on her shoulder, leaving the diner. Tim's truck was gone from where he'd parked it, but she saw it across the street at the gas station. He was leaning against the tailgate, his ankles and arms crossed, waiting for it to fill up. She rolled her eyes, walking over towards him. "You abandoned me with my father."

"You'd find me eventually."

She tossed her hair out of her eyes, reaching to tug at the collar of his flannel shirt, untucking it from where it had flipped under. "He loves you, he's not mad I'm back. I don't think."

He smiled. "I don't think he loves me. He tolerates me."

Well yeah, she supposed that was true too. She took a deep breath, leaning against him and pressed her hands against his chest. "You know," she murmured, she shook her head again. "I think that today…well I guess now that my dad is complete we might as well go see your family."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because my family is crazy."

"Well yeah, but you know that's never stopped me before," she said, smiling quickly. She pursed her lips, her voice soft. "Does Mindy still hate me?"

Tim shrugged, disinterested in their conversation. He crossed his arms over his chest, dislodging her hands from him. He shook his head, glancing at the gas pump, as though willing it to move faster so he could avoid such a conversation. "Mindy doesn't hate you. I don't think."

"Your brother hates me." And we can't deny that, she thought, lifting her eyes to his, dead serious. You might not want to talk about this but we kind of do need to talk about it. She shook her head, whispering. "Tim your brother hates me and you know it. You also listen to him and I just…"

He interrupted her, his voice cold. "I don't listen to Billy." He scowled, his eyes narrowing. "I don't listen to Billy, Lyla." Uh-oh. First name. "And it's stupid if you think I do." He pushed her away slightly so he could take out the diesel pump, going in to get his receipt and left her standing by his truck, her eyes closing slightly. Great.

She waited for him to come back, his sunglasses now on over his eyes and his attention focused elsewhere. They climbed into the truck and he drove away, his attention on the road ahead of them. What the hell am I supposed to say to that, she wondered, looking out her window. She glanced back at him again. "Tim."

"I'm not talking about my brother."

"Tim, I think we really should talk about it. It's a big deal." He jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, taking a turn a little too fast. She grabbed hold of the window, glancing down at her seatbelt, which wasn't really holding first with that turn. "Tim!"

He hit the accelerator. Where are we going, she wondered, keeping her mouth shut. He said absolutely nothing and eventually they pulled up beside a Dodge minivan in the parking lot beside the Dillon Panthers fieldhouse. Why are we here, she wondered, climbing out after him. He walked her into the house and through the row of lockers, to the offices on the other side of the building. What are we doing here, she thought again, but didn't want to ask. Tim was on a mission.

One of the doors was closed to an office, but the blinds were open. The little plaque outside of it said 'Billy Riggins, Offensive Coordinator.' Great, she thought, sighing as Tim barged into the office. Billy was on the phone, his feet up on his desk and kicked back in the chair. "Well yeah you know we'll take a look at him next year, but you know we've got our team and we're not going to be making any changes during playoffs…" he trailed off, looking up at the interruption. Tim squared off. "Ah…I'm going to let you go Mayor Rodelle, my brother is in my office now and he doesn't look happy. Take care now." He hung up, looking up at Tim with tired eyes. "What are you mad at me about now? I stayed away from you after Mexico, that's what you wanted." He looked around Tim, his eyes widening. "Lyla."

"Good morning Billy," she said, her voice soft. She didn't want to step into this. This was a very new dynamic that she had never witnessed between the brothers. Oh she knew that they fought from time to time, they were brothers after all. Tim would show up with a broken nose or a bloody lip and Billy would have the same. They usually fought to kill and then when they didn't, they made up and walked off. This was different. This was simmering…hell the only thing she could think of was hatred.

Billy looked up at Tim. "What are you doing here?"

"Came to tell you that Garrity's gonna' be sticking around a bit and I'm going to be taking her to Sunday dinner at the house." He leaned his hands on the desk, his voice soft. "Any problem with that Billy?"

There was clearly a problem, she thought, seeing Billy glare at her. He glanced back at Tim, his voice quiet. "Tyra will be there. She took some time from work. You going to be doing the whole double-dipping thing there little brother?"

Tim grinned, but it wasn't happy. He formed a fist with his right hand, knocking it lightly into the table. "I swear to God Billy, you keep making comments like that and you're going to be in a body cast for Christmas. Won't Mindy like that?"

"Tim," she whispered. She swallowed hard. This wasn't what she intended when she brought up his family. It was just a legitimate issue they would have to contend with and if they were going to be taking…well baby steps or whatever it was that they'd agreed upon last night, she had to know about his family's involvement in their lives. Specifically whether she should be worried that he'd be walking back into jail for someone else one day.

He pushed up from the desk, looking down at Billy. "I came to let you know so there wouldn't be problems. There always seems to be with you guys."

"Tim, come on," Billy sighed. He stood up, walking around the other side of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought we were fine."

"We are fine," Tim said, smiling darkly again. He patted his brother's shoulder. "Don't screw anything up in the next few months and we'll keep being fine. See you around." He walked out of the office, storming out of the fieldhouse. Meanwhile, she remained behind, because she wanted to see something with Billy.

Who sighed, looking at her and frowning. "I thought you were some big shot in Tennessee. You come to slum it in Dillon and then break his heart? I'm kind of sick of ex-girlfriends using my little brother as their sexual bandaid when they feel bad about themselves."

I don't know what went on with him and Tyra and I don't want to know after that comment, she thought, smiling a little. "I'm a physician, an emergency room doctor," she said. She smiled again, wider. "Tim and I…we reconnected in Mexico and he gave me an ultimatum. If we were going to work out then I had to return to Dillon. So after some thinking and…and a bit of an ephiany courtesy of losing an eighteen-year old teenage girl…well I'm here in Texas now." She placed her hands on her hips, walking towards Billy so they were toe-to-toe. She smiled sweetly at him. "And I know what he did for you."

Let that be the threat, she figured, seeing Billy's eyes widen. "No one…" Billy whispered, shaking his head. "No one knows."

"Well I do," she whispered. She arched an eyebrow. "And I was never your biggest fan and I always knew that he was going to screw up his life because he was so devoted to you. Don't screw this up for him now too Billy."

"That would be you Lyla," Billy retorted back. "I'm not doing anything. You're the one who left."

"And you're the one that broke the law and you let your little brother take the fall and ruin his life for you," she said. She grinned. "But he didn't, now did he? He brought himself back, but he's still in pain and three days in Mexico isn't going to erase that pain. Not even I can do that." She sighed. "You're a schumuck Billy. You always have been. A pathetic person who lets other people take the fall for your stupid mistakes, not thinking about anything. I sincerely hope that having children and raising them has changed you but I don't think it's changed you enough. I heard Mindy kicked you out there for a bit. Probably the smartest thing she's done in her life." She tapped her fingers on his shoulder, still grinning, her voice dripping sweetness. "And I sincerely hope that you buy her flowers every week and tell her how amazing she is that she's managed to put up with your shit for as long as she has. I look forward to seeing her and meeting your children and yes, I will put up with you, but the pitbull is back now Billy."

She grinned wide, happy at his look of annoyance. "Yes, I'm back now, and Tim is a big boy and he can make his own decisions, but know that I will protect him no matter what." There, she thought, patting his shoulder and stepping away. "Good luck with playoffs. If you need any medical assistance I'm more than happy to pitch in, I've got to start looking for a job anyway."

Leaving Billy with that, she left the building and walked over to join Tim, who was leaning against the fence, looking out at the field. He was quiet, until she reached over and folded her fingers into his. "Some of the best times of my life were on this field," he murmured, looking from one end to the other. He sighed. "I was pretty dumb to think that my entire life would be here."

"I think it still is. My dad says you help with scouting sometimes."

"It's just…" he didn't even finish his statement, pushing back from the fence. He pointed towards the end, on the Panther sideline, near the twenty-yard line. "That's where I first saw you."

She smiled, glancing at him. "What do you mean?"

"You were seven. It was a cheerleading camp. I was over there." He pointed to the opposite end of the field, on the visitor's side, near the thirty. He smiled and whispered. "I was over there. Football camp."

"How could you possibly remember that?"

"Because of what you did." He smiled down at her; she missed his smile. He leaned back on the fence with his elbows, his voice quiet. "You had your hair in pigtails. None of the other girls did. You did a cartwheel and they said it was perfect. Another girl did a cartwheel and I was watching because when you did cartwheels, your underwear showed and it was pink with ruffles."

"Of course."

"Of course. So you both did cartwheels and she fell. Got upset. You walked over to her and the other girls laughed. You helped her up and gave her the pom poms and then you said something to the other girls, who just walked away." He grinned. "I don't know what I thought about it. Probably didn't give a shit at the time, but I still remember it."

Must have made quite an impact on you to see someone helping another person, when no one ever helped you, she thought. She reached over and brushed his hair from his eyes, whispering. "You need a haircut."

"I need to go home," he sighed. He glanced at his watch. "And stop at work." He ran his tongue over his teeth, his voice quiet. "How does it work? The two of us…whatever we are?"

I don't quite know exactly. Honesty first, she thought, glancing at the building and then to him. "I told Billy that the pitbull was back and I knew what he did. Letting you go to jail. I don't think he's happy with me. In fact I think I might have made anything between us much worse. So there's that." Tim leaned in and kissed her lightly. She pushed him back, smiling and held up her finger. "I think we can agree, no kissing." He rolled his eyes. "I'm serious. If this is going to be the real thing and we have to figure it out, no kissing." She didn't like that rule, but something had to give. I need to make sure that I'm here for the right reasons and having you kissing me isn't going to help.

They walked away from the football field, with Tim saying nothing about her admission that she basically threatened his brother. She didn't want to get into it again with him, especially not now, not after he'd calmed down a lot. They climbed into the car and he reached into the glove compartment, removing an orange vial of pills. She took it and glanced at the label. "I don't take them all the time, I'm cracking down," he admitted, popping the Buspar. He shrugged. "It helps after I talk with Billy."

I imagine it would, since it was an anti-anxiety drug. I wonder if it helps with the desire to drink when you get upset, she thought. Not that she'd noticed in Mexico. She took the bottle, before he put it back in the glove compartment, and shoved it into her bag. "I'll be monitoring your medication from here on out," she advised.

"That doesn't violate something?"

"I'm sure it does, but everyone does it."

"Everyone does drugs, doesn't mean you should."

"Shut up and put your eyes on the road." I'll figure out the legalities and technicalities later, but just watching his medication intake didn't violate shit. In fact, it was her obligation as a physician to help those who needed it. She put her sunglasses back on. Her voice quieted. "I don't think the reason I'm here is because of my patient." She looked at him, but he was watching the road. "I really think I'm here because I want to be. She was just the catalyst."

They drove silently again. Until Tim spoke. "Yes, but it still took you a month Lyla. You could still be in Nashville if that girl didn't die. That's why I want you to make sure."

I know, she thought. I know and I don't think I'm ever going to have the answer you want for that. Let's just see how this works out. "Are we going to give it a test…time?" she thought. "Like two weeks or a month or…or something?"

"Four weeks." That was pretty sudden. Why four weeks? He glanced at her. "State is in four weeks. We have an answer then. Sound good?" Sounds good, she thought, nodding. She glanced out the window, saying nothing at all.


	7. Threats

**7. Threats**

Well I imagine this is what hell's waiting room must feel like, Lyla thought, standing on the doorstep outside of the Riggins house. She felt awkward not just barging in like she always had before. It was even more awkward because Tim was standing beside her, waiting for it to open. He wasn't even barging inside. Weird, she thought, glancing sideways at him. "We can go, if you want," she said.

"No, it's Sunday dinner, it's something Becky started. I have to be here."

I wonder if this was some sort of 'you will all be a family' thing that she kind of remembered from meeting Becky. She got the sense that Becky was one of those people who would do anything to keep water in her hands even if it was leaking everywhere. She would try to keep the family together. That was admirable and well, good for her, she thought. I certainly wouldn't do it.

It was like Jason, wanting the three of them to be together again, desperate for it. She reached up to knock again, wondering if they hadn't heard them, when the door pulled open, a little boy about five answering with a grin, gaps in his teeth showing. "Uncle Tim!" he shouted.

Another one, identical to his brother, except his missing teeth were in different places, appeared in the doorway, giggling as Tim leaned down and lifted him up. "I can spit water out," he said, pointing to the gap in his front two teeth.

"Yeah? You'll have to show me. How are the monsters doing today? Huh?" He immedietly set the one down and picked up the other, biting at his neck, eliciting screams from the little boy. Tim grinned, dropping him back down and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. "I'm here and I brought a friend."

"Tim if it's that stripper from before," Mindy said from the stove. She looked up, her eyes widening. "Oh. Wow."

No stripper, Lyla felt like saying. She held up a dish in her hands. "I brought you rolls. I made them this morning. I didn't know what we were having, but figured you could never have enough rolls." Stop rambling, she ordered herself. She swallowed nervously. Don't be nervous. "Hi Mindy, how are you?"

Mindy glanced at Tim and then to Lyla, smiling. "Tim didn't tell us you were visiting."

"Lyla's here to stay," Tim said, his voice quiet. He kept it even. "And she's going to be here for awhile. I hope."

Yes, I think I might be. If only because a couple days before she'd called the hospital in Nashville and said she was taking a leave of absence. Her attending and the Chief of Emergency Medicine told her that because she was the brightest in her level, they would hold her position for her for at least three months, but they needed an answer before she officially met her third year of residency, since they were planning on selecting her as Chief Resident. She glanced at Tim again. She hadn't told him that yet. She wasn't sure when she would. "Do you need help with anything?" she asked, wanting to get out of the kitchen as fast as humanly possible.

"No, I'm all set, the boys are helping." She looked at both of them, her voice hard. "We're having spaghetti. Get a beer Tim, Tyra and Billy are outside on the patio."

Lyla gazed around the living room as Tim removed two beers from the fridge, giving her one. She opened it up and took a sip. This place looked like a home. It was painted, there was a nice rug out. The dining room furniture was new and so was the couch. There was a flatscreen on the wall, opening up a bit more room. She walked out the back door and onto the patio, which was gated, setting it off from the pool, which was an actual pool, clean and tarped for the winter. "Here we go," she muttered to herself, stepping beside Tim.

Billy and Tyra were fighting about something, sitting in patio chairs in front of a covered mini-firepit. She cleared her throat. "Hello," she said, her eyes falling on Tyra. Who did not look the same. Her hair was long and it was practically black, curling in her ponytail. She looked up, frowning in surprise.

"Lyla," Tyra drawled. "What are you doing here?" She immediately looked at Tim, her gaze softening slightly. "Tim."

"Hello Tyra," Tim said, his voice cool. He gestured to Lyla. "This is Lyla. She's back in town and we're back together." He looked at both her and Billy again. "She's a doctor."

"Oh," Tyra said, frowning deeper. "That's nice." She narrowed her eyes. "So you're moving back to Dillon, Lyla?"

"Probably, we're…" She reached for Tim's hand, squeezing it obviously, to let the intention…be out there. "Working on it."

"I know you guys saw each other in Mexico, I take it this happened there?" she asked, her gaze darting between both of them as they took a seat on a glider. Lyla crossed her ankles primly, sitting straight. She felt like she had to be on complete alert the entire evening. Tyra sipped her bottle of beer for a moment before she lowered it to the table between her and Billy. "Mexico. You guys seem to like it there."

What sort of a comment was that, she wondered. Tim was on it already. "It's important to the three of us."

"Yes, the three of you," Tyra murmured. She tapped her fingernails on the side of the bottle. "You, Lyla, and Jason. How can I possibly forget you guys?"

"I don't know, but I'm not talking about any of this shit," Billy said, leaning forward. He began to tug at the label on his beer bottle. "So Lyla, what kind of doctor are you again?"

"Emergency Medicine, Trauma Medicine, specializing in pediatric trauma care and I'm thinking about trauma spinal care," she said, looking up at the both of them. She smiled quickly. "How about you Tyra? What are you up to these days?"

So went the most passive aggressive dinner she'd ever been a part of in her life. Tyra would make little comments about Tim's mental state, Tim would drink, Billy would try to make everything good, and so would Mindy. Then there were the kids, who she actually liked. Mindy was a really good mom; she disciplined them when they acted out, she insisted they sit still in their seats, put napkins on their laps, and when one of the twins spit out water from the gap in his front two teeth, he got sent to his room without dessert, because she'd told him twice before not to do it. Three strikes, you're out, Lyla thought.

When dinner was over, she got up, taking her phone with her and left the house while everyone cleared the table, excusing herself to make a call. She made her way to the other side of the yard, waiting as it rang a few times. "Hey Jason," she said, before he said anything. "How are you?"

"I told you I'm not talking to you about Tim. Why are you calling me?"

"I have one question for you. It is about…someone near Tim, but I can't ask him and you'll know why after I mention it to you," she said, before Jason could lose his shit. She wasn't interesting in catering his emotions right now. She sighed, glancing around to the house, her voice quiet. "What happened with him and Tyra? He didn't mention it in Mexico. Not really, at least."

Jason was silent. He sighed hard. "You can't ask him."

"You know he won't talk to me about her."

"He will, but…look, I don't know Lyla. I know she came back after he was in jail, they had a thing, and she…she watches him sometimes, but I don't think he…well I think it's not like what you think it is. On both their parts, but I don't know." He hesitated again before he groaned. "Lyla this makes me uncomfortable. Tim doesn't talk to me about this, I don't talk to him about this and to be honest, we've been out of Mexico for a month and I don't want to upset the balance. I think it's already upset again because of you guys."

Yeah, maybe you're right. She opened her mouth, to tell him she was in Dillon, but closed it, thinking against it at the moment. They didn't even know what it was, she didn't want to tell Jason and have him get his hopes up or anything. "Yeah…yeah okay, I was just wondering. Thank you for sharing."

"Lyla…are you alright? You sound different."

"Fine," she murmured. She wasn't going to tell him about Jessica. Or Nashville. Nothing for now. "Good night Jason."

"Good night Lyla."

She disconnected, holding the phone in her fist for a few minutes before she turned around, jumping at the sight of Tyra standing behind her on the pavement. "Oh my gosh," she exclaimed, pressing her hand to her chest. She chuckled. "You scared me."

"Sorry. " Tyra didn't seem sorry. She stepped off the patio surrounding the pool into the dry grass, her hands going to her hips. She squared off, her eyes dark and her jaw set. This was a confrontation, she thought, stepping back slightly, but all Tyra did was step forward.

To keep it light, Lyla quirked her lip up, her voice quiet. "You know if we start fighting we should get Tim out here. It's probably one of his fantasies."

"I highly doubt that," Tyra said, not biting at the joke. Fine then, she thought, arching an eyebrow. What's the big deal? The other woman cocked her head, her voice threatening. "I don't know why you are here Lyla. I don't care. If you leave again and he's destroyed, I will find you."

Well whatever she thought Tyra planned on telling her, it wasn't that. "Excuse me?"

"I don't know what happened with you guys and frankly I don't care. I know Tim. I was here for him after he got out of jail, I was the one who saw it." She snorted, cocking her hip and glaring angrily at her. "The three of you…Tim, Jason, and Lyla, I was never allowed in that little club, try as I might to get through. You were a snotty little bitch who wouldn't let me in because you probably thought I would go after your precious Jason. I could have Tim, but hell, the instant you wanted him? You did everything to keep me out of that group."

"That was high school. That was different," Lyla snapped. She lifted her eyebrows. "I was a snotty little bitch. I thought I was going to be a football wife. Now look at me! I'm freaking in love with an alcoholic felon who was my boyfriend's best friend! I'm a doctor! Whatever the hell you're trying to do Tyra, I'm not taking the bait. I'm here now."

"Good," Tyra snapped. She kept going, even though her answer surprised Lyla. She stepped forward towards her again, pointing her finger at her. "Because I love Tim. I hurt him when I came back and I hurt him a few times after that and I didn't mean to do it. He wanted me to stay probably as much as he wanted you to stay and each time I didn't, it hurt him. It hurt me too because I couldn't. I cannot come back to Dillon and I do not love him enough to give up everything and do it. You do, otherwise you wouldn't be here. You would have left Mexico and never come back. Good for you Lyla, to love him that much, but if you decide that you don't want this, I will come and find you and I will end you because for all the hurt he went through with me?" She pointed her finger back to herself, laughing harshly. She shook her head, her face falling to sadness. "It's nothing compared to how he's going to feel if you dump him again."

I didn't dump him, she thought, frowning slightly. It was mutual. Tim knew as well as I that I couldn't stay. She wouldn't tell that to Tyra. It wasn't any of her business. And you don't know him, she felt like saying. Because I don't think he'll be destroyed. I think he'll just move on, because he'll know that at least they gave it one final chance. Both could be satisfied in knowing that they tried and wouldn't have regrets. She wouldn't tell that to Tyra either. "Fine," she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Fine," Tyra said, suddenly stepping away from her. She swallowed hard, glancing at the house and then back to her again. She shrugged. "He's been better since Mexico. That I can tell at least. Maybe it wasn't a waste."

I don't think it was. I think it was one of the best decisions either of us could have made, to take Jason up on the offer and go there. She bit her lower lip and lifted her eyes again. "Jason didn't tell either of us that we'd…well I didn't know he'd be there and he didn't know about me." She smiled briefly. Tyra didn't say anything. She shrugged. "We almost killed each other."

Tyra cocked her head, whispering. "You guys tend to do that." She smiled briefly. "Please don't. I kind of like him. Like a…twisted brother thing nowadays. Gross as it is to think I slept with him."

"Yeah that's kind of gross." She waited a moment. Don't say it Lyla, don't…you trust him, you trust him…she took a deep breath, the words tumbling out. "I don't have to worry about anything with you guys, right? I mean…it's all completely over? I don't want to step into something…" She knew it as soon as she said it that it was stupid. There was no way that Tim would be doing this with her if there was even a remote chance he was with Tyra. It wouldn't happen. She supposed she just wanted to make sure.

The other woman smiled briefly, shaking her head. "No you're good." She waited a moment, laughing. "Nice of you to ask this time. You didn't really do that before."

"High school? Can't we just…wipe that under the rug?" she offered. It was ancient times, basically. So much had happened and changed since then. Including themselves.

"Yeah, I guess." Tyra nibbling her lower lip, gesturing to the house. "Come on inside. Mindy's got pie for dessert."

Yeah, okay, in a minute. She waited a moment, calling out again. "Hey Tyra." The other woman turned again, waiting. Lyla swallowed hard, shrugging, her hands still in her pockets. "You know the three of us…we didn't keep anyone out on purpose. I hope you know that. It just…it just happened." She bit her lip again, her voice soft. "And I don't know why."

"I do." Tyra waited a moment, before she smiled again, sad. "They were both in love with you, Lyla. They both loved each other and you loved them. There was no room for anyone else. Just like nowadays. It's always the three of you. Always will be. The rest of the world…we just look in and wonder what the three of you see in each other."

Yeah, I guess you're right, she thought, watching Tyra go back inside. She walked to the edge of the pool, sitting down on the edge of the diving board. Her hands folded between her knees and she closed her eyes. This was where she said goodbye to Jason. After he'd confided in her that he was moving to New York. That night she'd said goodbye to him and they'd hugged and kissed. She knew if Tim walked out in that moment, he wouldn't have done a thing. There was no jealousy between the three of them anymore. She'd gone into the house and then when it was time for Jason to leave, they had that little secret between them and she'd said goodbye for good. She hadn't seen him for years after that.

She opened her eyes, not surprised to see Tim standing next to her. "You need a bell," she murmured, lifting her eyes up to him. "You're quiet."

"Light feet."

"You have huge feet."

"You know what they say about guys with big feet."

She smiled, smirking up at his lecherous little smile. "They wear big shoes."

"Hey, come on now, play with the joke." He waited a moment. She didn't get up, so he offered his hand. "Come on," he whispered. He nodded to the house. "The boys are putting in a movie. Finding Nemo. You like that one, don't you?"

"Not as much as Mindy," she said, smiling. She stood up and reached around, her arm snaking around his waist, her head resting against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, whispering. "I want you and Billy to be better."

"We'll be okay. We always get like this." I don't like that though. He sighed. "I want you and Tyra to not kill each other. Think you can do that? She could probably kill you. She's tough."

"Excuse me? I can beat her. I'm a doctor, I know all the weak spots."

"Yes, but Tyra plays dirty. You always follow the rules. OW!" He grabbed his solar plexus, coughing. She smirked; shows you, she thought. Once he had his breath back, he gaped at her. "Abuse, what the hell!"

"I told you I know the weak spots. Let's go inside."

"Remind me never to piss you off."

She kissed his cheek, her voice quiet. "I'm going to stay with my dad while we work this out, okay? Drop me off there on the way home."

He sighed. "I suppose that's the best thing to do."

"I suppose it is."


	8. Cuts

**A/N:**Sorry for the delay. Hope everyone enjoys, this is a turning point chapter, so to speak. :)

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**8. Cuts**

"Hold still."

Tim turned around again in the chair, but she grabbed is temples with her hands, yanking him back around. "You think I'm letting you get near my neck with scissors and you have another thing coming Garrity."

"Stop it. Your constant hair-blowing-out-of-your-face thing is pissing me off."

"So you attack it with scissors?" He looked up at her, half of his hair cut off from where she had snuck up and yes, maybe it could have been considered an attack by some legal authorities. Either way, he needed it evened out or else he was going to be walking around with half his forehead and one eye covered and the other visible. He looked like something out of the early 1980s, all floppy haired and almost kind of blown out.

I wonder what he'd do if I dyed it, she thought, holding up the scissors again. "Come on Tim, sit back down and let me do this."

"Only one person cuts my hair."

"Yeah you."

"No."

She froze; that was odd. Tim never let anyone cut his hair, he always did it himself which was why he usually looked like a homeless bum much of the time. She always wanted to drug him in high school and take him to her salon and have them style the rats' nest, but he was a drunk…he wasn't stupid. She frowned, holding the scissors aloft and staring at him in the reflection of the mirror in her bathroom at her dad's condo. "Excuse me?"

Tim smirked at her in the mirror. "Yeah. Becky does hair now."

"You don't let Becky cut your hair, seriously?"

"As a heart attack."

If I call Becky right here, right now, she'd confirm this, she wondered, looking sideways when she heard a door open and close from the front. She glared at him. "Stay put. I'll go see if that's my dad."

To her shock, Tim leaned back in the chair, peering around the doorway, calling out. "Becks!? That you!?"

"Yeah, I'm here, are you sure it's okay for me to just walk…" Becky Sproles trailed off, smiling long and slow when she saw her. She glanced at Tim, sitting int eh chair, all innocent-eyed with a towel around his neck, half his hair in the sink, and his ex-girlfriend holding scissors up. She glanced at the scissors, Tim, and then finally to Lyla. "Well," she finally said. "I guess you weren't kidding in your texts."

"You've been texting her!?"

"This whole time," Tim said, holding up his phone from where it had been hiding under the towel. He dropped it onto the counter. "Do something Sproles, she attacked me."

"Should I call the police or something? She is your ex-girlfriend."

I don't even know what to say to this situation, Lyla thought, stepping aside and giving Becky the scissors. She took the spray bottle of water and wet Tim's hair and began to cut, leaving Lyla to sit on the side of the bathtub and glare at him. Moron, she thought. He smiled sideways at her. "Get over it Garrity."

"You don't trust me."

"I'm a man of tradition."

"You're an idiot, you should have let me cut this ages ago," Becky said. She cocked her head slightly, running her fingers through the front and bringing it back so it stood up a little. "I wonder what you'd do if you let me blow it out."

"I'll blow you off the planet. Just cut it so it doesn't get in my face when I'm working." He was quiet for a minute, the only sounds coming from the snip of the scissors. He finally cleared his throat, obviously. Tim was not subtle. "Becky, you remember Lyla, right?"

"Of course. I heard you were back in town, Mindy told me." Becky smiled sideways at her. "I'm sorry I missed dinner. Luke doesn't get a lot of time to call back home, so when he does, it's a big deal. I had almost a whole hour on Skype with him."

She frowned a little. "I thought they pretty much had Internet everywhere."

"Yeah, not where he is."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, he can't say."

Tim announced loudly. "Luke is a spook."

"Tim, shut up! I told you that and promised Luke when he found out that you wouldn't tell anyone else!" Becky glared at her. Lyla had no idea what was happening, but she wasn't a spy and she wouldn't tell anyone. She didn't even know what they were talking about. Becky rolled her eyes and kept cutting. "Luke is in a special unit. It's secretive and stuff and he can't talk about what he does. Anyways, he had time so he called and I didn't want to tell him not to talk because I had to go spy on my friend's ex-girlfriend." She smiled, cocking her head slightly. It was off-putting, Lyla thought. Which was what she figured Becky wanted. "So why are you here? I thought you'd kind of left forever, you know?" Her voice dropped and she looked at her reflection in the mirror before her gaze fell back down to her fingers. "I know if I'd leave here I'd never come back."

Yeah. That seemed to be the overall sentiment of most people in Dillon. Not me, apparently. It wasn't the end of her life situation that it seemed to be for Becky or Tyra. "I don't know why anyone wants to leave," Tim said, piping up from where he'd been silent the last few minutes.

"No one wants to hear you talk, be quiet," Becky ordered.

Someone holds control, Lyla thought, smiling when Tim tried to speak, but Becky glared at him in the mirror and he closed his mouth, but he rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. She pursed her lips, her eyebrow arching as she lifted her gaze back to them again. It was a weird little relationship. Pretty symbiotic, but she knew she didn't have to worry about anything. It was just…it was kind of funny. Becky seemed so jealous of her when she'd come back for that quick visit. The was the only time and the last time she'd seen her. Now it was…well Lyla kind of liked her.

I'm glad that he has her, she thought, cocking her head a little when Becky blew on the back of Tim's neck, dusting his hsoulders with a towel. "You're done."

"That was fast," she commented, straightening up a little on the rim of the bathtub. She smiled wide at Tim. His hair was short again, no longer dusting the edge of his collar or falling into his eyes. "Aw, you look so cute. Like you're going for your first day of school or something." She yelped when he lunged towards her, knocking her into the bathtub. "Ow," she laughed, her head hitting lightly on the back of the shower. "Tim!"

He leaned down to kiss her but she quickly lifted her fingertips to his lips, turning her head. He rolled his eyes when she pushed him back again. No kissing. No nothing. No funny business, she'd warned him. Last night they'd gone to the movies, like a normal couple, and afterward they'd come back here and her dad wasn't home. She almost fell back into it, but remembered that they were trying to…figure things out. "I hate this," he mumbled, pushing himself back up to his feet. He leaned in and helped her step out of the tub. "Are you still sure on it?"

"I'm sure."

Becky had finished cleaning up and lifted her head, frowning. "Still sure on what?"

Tim shrugged, saying nothing. What are you telling everyone about us, she wondered, smiling politely at Becky. "Tim and I are working on…this thing. So no…funny business while we figure it out."

"Ouch. It's been what, two weeks?"

Yeah, two weeks, she thought, sighing and lifting her head to him again, smiling at his scowl. "Don't you have somewhere to be Becky?" he asked, his voice soft. He lifted his eyebrows. "Maybe away from me right now?"

She chuckled, setting her hairstyling supplies back in her bag. "Yeah, I should go back to work, but…" Becky peered around him, still smiling. "I'd like to talk to Lyla."

Oh boy, here we go, she thought. Now I get the little sister yelling at me after the brother and the ex-girlfriend. I suppose the best friend already had his fill and she was sure Jason would have more when she saw him again and he found out about this. "Whatever, I gotta' get back to work, some of us have to make money around here." He looked over at her, his voice quiet. "You find any jobs yet?"

No. Not that she'd really been trying hard. Just a few cold calls. Nothing serious. "I have some leads," she lied, running her tongue over her teeth. She shrugged and looked away.

Tim was quiet for a moment before he released a long sigh. "Don't lie." He turned away from the both of them and left, the door slamming extra-loud behind him. A moment later she heard the sound of his truck engine roaring to life before disappearing as he drove off. Damn. I could have done that better, she thought, finally lifting her eyes to Becky.

"Were you lying?" Becky asked, slinging her bag strap over her shoulder and leaving the bathroom. She turned around at the door, crossing her arms over her chest and leaned back on her hip. "Well?" she insisted.

Yeah. She shook her head, shrugging. "I…I don't know why. This is still hard."

Becky waited a second before sighing. "You know…just tell him the truth. If you're still up in the air about it, tell him. You'd think that people would realize that it's easier to tell the truth and face whatever that situation is going to be than lie about it, because now you know he's annoyed and he's second-guessing himself and freaking out about you leaving him again."

That's not true, she thought defensively, her jaw set. She narrowed her eyes, her voice soft. "He's not doing that," she whispered.

"Yes, he is." Becky waited a moment. She shook her head, dropping her bag onto the floor. "Look. You might be Tim's one and only whatever. His soulmate, if you believe in that sort of a thing and I think you might be, but you need to know Lyla that I've been around him now for longer than you."

"I've known him since I was seven," she snapped. I don't need you telling me you know him more. That'd be like Tyra telling me she knows him more. She might understand him a little more, but she doesn't know him. She doesn't know…know anything, she thought sadly. She snapped again at Becky's eyeroll. "I was the one who went to his house and found out that his mother had run off. I was the one who walked when his dad grabbed his elbow so hard that he sprained it and I was the one who was sitting in the waiting room while Mr. and Mrs. Street, Jason's parents, paid to have a doctor look at it." Her voice began to rise and she grew angrier and angrier. "And I was the one who understood the pain he was in after Jason broke his neck, I was the only one who knew. I was the only one who knew what it was like to be one of the most well known people in this town but also the loneliest. I know him. I know why he does what he does and I've been around him a lot more than you Becky."

"And you also didn't see him after he came out of jail," Becky said, her voice quiet. She smiled sadly. "And you didn't see him when he had nightmares. I stayed with him for awhile. He needed company and I couldn't live with my mom anymore. Before Luke and I got married?"

"I didn't know that," she murmured. It had never come up, she guessed. She ran her tongue over her teeth. "So…what do you mean?" I know what you mean, I don't know why I asked that, she thought. She raked her fingers through her hair. Why did this bother her so much? I'm not jealous, she instantly thought, sinking onto the couch. She scrubbed her face, looking up as the couch sank a little, Becky sitting down beside her. "I know what you mean," she said. She sighed again. "I'm sorry…"

"You're not yourself, it's okay." Whoa, I'm not myself? Lyla turned her head quickly. I am myself, she felt like saying, but she also knew Becky was right with that statement too. She wasn't really herself, because she wasn't quite sure who herself was at that moment. I think this is me, she thought, smiling slightly. It's why I left. To really be me. Becky leaned back, picking at her fingernails. "You know, after Mexico Tim was happier. Before Mexico he was miserable. I think seeing you and Jason was good for him. I forget a lot that there's you guys out there…that it isn't just me and Luke and Tyra or Mindy or Billy. We're usually the source of his problems. You and Jason are where he goes to help solve them."

"Or we cause them," she murmured, smiling quickly.

"Or you cause them," Becky agreed. She reached into her purse, rummaging around. "In any case, Tim just wants you here. He wants you. I think that he deserves happiness and if you give it to him, then good. The thing is, is that you need to make sure."

"That's why I'm here."

"I know that's why you're here, but you need to start showing Tim it's why you're here." Becky began to touch up her nailpolish, blowing lightly on the tips of her fingers. "You can try cutting his hair and be cute and all, but just going on dates and stuff for two weeks isn't really showing him that the reason you're here isn't because you lost a patient and freaked out and stuff."

Whoa! Lyla whipped her head around, her eyes wide. "How did you…" she breathed.

Becky stood up, waving her hand and walking back to the door. "Lyla one of the things you're going to have to realize is that I know just about everything. People talk to me." She waited a second. That wasn't a good enough answer and she knew it, Lyla thought, arching an eyebrow. She used her Sunday School teacher look, as Tim called it, and it worked. Becky crumbled a little. "Fine, I got it out of Tyra who heard from Angela who got it from Buddy who clearly got it from you. I'm done for the day with Riggins insanity, I'll see you later."

See you later, Lyla thought, chuckling. She bit her lower lip. She liked Becky. "Damnit," she mumbled, grabbing her bag and coat, leaving the condo and heading down the stairs to the car she was using of her dad's while hers sat in Nashville. I need to make a decision, she thought. They had two weeks until State. Until then, her job and her car would keep in Tennessee.

I'm staying, she thought. That's certain. I just wish Tim could see it, she thought, driving away. She trolled around town, asked a couple of people, and found him out on one of the county roads, sitting in the cab of a white Public Works truck while a crew worked on the pipes running alongside. He was sitting half-in the cab and half-out, leaning over and typing something into a computer hooked up to some sort of console. It was full of swirling lines and colors.

She stood outside of it for a moment before she cleared her throat. "Hey."

He paused his typing and took a deep breath, sighing hard and continuing. "What can I do you for Dr. Garrity?"

"Tim." Stop the passive aggressive bullshit.

"I'm working right now." He hopped out of the truck, closing the door and slung a white hard hat on his head, walking over to the pipes, yelling something in Spanish to what appeared to be a counterpart, as he was the only one wearing a white button-down with "Carr County" embroidered on the left breast pocket. He shouted something again, pointing down the road.

"Your Spanish is terrible," the guy, who Lyla could figure was name Miguel, replied in perfect English. He smiled over at her, gesturing with his finger. "This guy lives in Texas his entire life, I grew up in Connecticut, how is it my Spanish is better than his?"

"Because he's also a redneck," Lyla answered. She smiled, offering her hand. "Dr. Lyla Garrity."

"Dr. Garrity," Miguel drawled, grinning. "You're Tim's new squeeze, huh? The guys have been talking."

"Deja de hablar!" Tim shouted at the group of workers. Most of which were Texan, Lyla thought with an eyeroll and gave him a funny look, while the few that were Hispanic just chuckled and kept doing what they were doing. He scowled at her. "You're upsetting the balance! They're not listening to me!"

"Newsflash Tim, they've never listened to you," Miguel said. He tapped his temple. "They listen to me. The civil engineering graduate."

"Whatever. Lyla…" Tim shook his head, walking by her, his voice soft in her ear as he leaned in. "Leave."

No, just listen to what I have to say, she thought. She ran after him back to the truck. "Tim, wait!"

"Lyla!" he snapped, whipping around. He was glaring at her, but it wasn't angry. Annoyed, more like, she thought, immediately drawing back. His voice was soft when he leaned in again. "Garrity…I'm working right now. Let me work and finish my shift and I will talk to you when I'm done. We can have dinner. We can talk," he said, lifting his eyebrows slightly. He glanced towards the group of workers, who were watching them curiously. He let it drop back to her. "Please."

Oh shit. What the hell is wrong with me? She stepped backwards, holding up her hands. "I'm sorry…oh God, I'm sorry…I'm just…I'm sorry," she repeated again. Of course he couldn't talk to her at work. Of course not. I'm an idiot. She turned around, after apologizing again, and went back to her car, driving away. What is wrong with you, she wanted to shout at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She pushed her fingers through her hair and dropped them to the steering wheel. I'm a total idiot.

She headed towards Tim's house, driving by the hospital as she did. She stopped in the parking lot, looking up at the large structure. Dillon Regional was one of the larger ones in the area, it had a trauma center, and boasted a cancer facility and a children's hospital. Including a children's ER, she thought. She ran her tongue over her teeth. Just go in. Actually talk to someone in administration. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them, looking down at her hands.

Why did you lie, she thought, looking at them again. You shouldn't have lied. Not even a little white lie. Tell Tim you haven't been working to look for a job. Just tell him. She put her car into gear, driving away and to his house, where she waited for the next few hours, standing up immediately when he came back home around six-thirty that evening. "I'm sorry," she blurted.

Tim set down his hardhat and his backpack, which she thought was kind of cute. He carried his backpack for work. He reached up and unbuttoned the shirt, scowling at it. "I hate this damn thing," he grumbled.

"Is it a uniform?"

"Yeah." He flipped the gray t-shirt he wore underneath it up and over the waistband of his jeans, kicking off his boots and shoved his feet into flip-flops, even though it was colder than hell outside. He looked over his shoulder, walking into the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"I better not," she called. She waited, standing in place, until he sat down in his chair with his beer, looking up at her expectedly. "I'm sorry," she blurted again, walking over to sit on the armrest of the chair. Her arm went around his shoulders and her voice softened. "I just…I don't know why I didn't tell you that…I haven't really been looking and…and I'm sorry I came to your work and bothered you…"

"Miguel thinks you're hot. So do most of the guys, so they're actually kind of nice to me now," he said, smiling quickly at her. He shook his head, looking down at his beer bottle. "I don't know why you thought you had to lie."

I really don't know either. I guess it's habit, she thought, shrugging. "Makes it real," she whispered. She bit her lower lip, frowning down at him. "Tim that doesn't mean I'm changing my mind or leaving. It means that I worked for over a decade to get where I am and I can't just leave it with a phone call. I can't just find a replacement job with a piece of paper and an interview. I just…I love you and I'm here and…" She closed her eyes. Just say it. "And I'm not just here because of Jessica. I'm here because I love you and I'm staying because I love you. If I didn't, if it was because of her…I'd have gotten my fix and then left."

Tim took a deep breath, staring at the empty fireplace. He waited a beat, before he spoke. "That's why…four weeks."

"Excuse me?"

"Four weeks because…you'll know after a month. That's when you know what you've done is…that's when you really feel the regret," he whispered, taking a long sip of beer. He passed it to her, while she remained quiet. You're talking about jail, she thought, looking down at him. He lifted his eyes to hers again, whispering. "I don't have regrets Garrity. I just wonder sometimes. Even then I don't do it a lot. One month was jail and…and you, even. I don't know, it's when I think of things." He drank more beer, while she listened. She smiled softly when he finally rolled his eyes, looking back up at her. "Don't make a big deal. I don't have regrets about anything in my life. Least of all you."

She brushed her lips over his temple. "That's good to know."

He waited a second, clearing his throat. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You…you have any?"

Any regrets? She shook her head, shrugging slightly. "I suppose that I would have much rather…" she trailed off, sighing and moved off the arm of the chair and into his lap, draping her legs over the side while he hugged her close, their heads bent together. She closed her eyes; this could be a problem if she did this wrong. "I maybe shouldn't have slept with my boyfriend's best friend, but…but I don't know how long it would have taken me to realize I love you. Could have made more regrets. It was just something and…and here I am." She took another deep breath, closing her eyes. "I could have…have stayed and then we could be bitter and angry…just like my parents were. Our kids would hate us and we'd resent them and…" she sighed, her brow furrowed. "And that wouldn't be good. Or I could have…have come back after Mexico. Right after Mexico and it would be just like that. But I waited and…and I could have even stayed in Nashville after Jessica. Just sat around wondering forever."

I don't know if I can give you the answer you want. That valid certainty. We're never going to have that, you can't have that in life and you of all people just don't live with it anyway, she thought, looking down at him; he was watching her carefully. Like she was a ticking bomb. Maybe I am. "Lyla," he whispered.

She shook her head again, her eyes closing. "I know you want to wait until State, I get that, but Tim…I don't know if Jessica was the reason I came. I don't know because it happened and I did make my decision. I love you and I'll be here and I won't know if I'm ever going to regret it, but right now I don't," she said, almost begging. She leaned in, her forehead touching his and her lips hovering over his, whispering. "I live by your code as much as you and I'm not regretting anything. Ever." She smiled, her fingertips dragging over his cheekbone. "Please. Just listen to that."

He swallowed hard, his throat constricting. He waited a moment before he lifted his eyes again. "I know." You know what, she wanted to ask, but she didn't. He shook his head slightly. "I know you don't and…and I don't. I guess I just…I just don't want…" It's hard for him, she realized, seeing him struggle with the raw emotion. She kissed him lightly, feeling him calm beneath him.

She hugged him close, whispering. "You don't want me to go," she murmured, finishing his thought. His tight hug confirmed it for her. I'm not going to go, she thought, wrapping her arms tighter around him, not letting go. I'm not going to let go either. She sighed, whispering. "I'm going to the hospital tomorrow."

He dragged his thumb over her hand, which was clutching his. "Yeah. Okay."

Yeah, she thought, nodding and closing her eyes, tucking her head under his chin. Okay.


	9. Changes

**A/N:**Hope everyone is still keeping with this story. It goes up to the time of the Epilogue, but there are only a couple more chapters left. Thanks :)

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**9. Changes  
**

"I feel like I'm going to puke."

"Well please don't."

"Maybe I'm pregnant."

Maybe you're not, Lyla thought, glancing at Tim, who was stretched out in the back of his truck, his corduroy and fleece jacket wrapped around his face, blocking it from the sunlight. She folded up the blanket that they'd been huddled beneath in the bed of the truck, spending the night outside at the lake. They'd gotten back a few days ago from the State game; the Panthers had lost, sadly, and personally she thought it was because Billy had totally lost it in the second half, unraveling the plays to a point where no one knew what was happening. The fact that the coach had allowed it was disappointing.

Buddy had already been on the phone as they left the stadium with his 'backup list.' The coaches that he kept tabs on through the year, particularly a list of people who he knew were unhappy in their current positions. Lyla felt like warning the coach, but she also figured he'd just sort of given up, unable to please anyone in the damn town. "You know you should be coach," she announced. He didn't hear her at all, but oh well. They'd been partying pretty hard the night before.

Tim sat up slowly, blinking against the sun. "I hate hangovers," he mumbled, lowering back down. He groaned. "Ow…."

I love you, she thought with a laugh, climbing back up onto the truck and lying out flat on top of him. He grunted as she pushed down hard with her knee. "You think you'd be used to them by now."

"I still hate them." He pulled his coat back down over his face, narrowing his eyes. His voice was all scratchy. It was absolutely adorable, she thought, provided he didn't start puking. Tim wasn't really that kind of a hangover guy though. He was more of the keep drinking to make it go away type. He was already reaching for a can that was leftover from the night before. "How come you're not sick? You had as much as me."

"I don't know," she lied. That morning she'd woken up with the worst nausea she'd had in her life. To be honest, she hadn't had that much to drink the night before, Tim always said they had the same amount because he usually couldn't remember after he started getting more than her. A few beers at one of the 'mourning parties' as Becky had called it and then a few more later on when she and Tim had snuck off to relive the last time the Panthers had lost State. Their little 'mourning party' after his shoulder came out of the sling had been pretty legendary. She shrugged; Tim wasn't letting it go, still frowning at her. "I don't know Tim, I guess as I've aged my tolerance for alcohol…"

"Liar," Tim interrupted. "I remember Mexico. You were a mess."

I'm still a mess, she figured, but a different sort of mess. She changed the subject from her lack of hangover, instead focusing on the fact that they were still wrapped up in each other and they'd completely violated any sort of pact that they had left. She kissed him lightly, smiling. "So does this mean that you're officially my boyfriend?"

"Does this mean you have a job and we'll go to Nashville and get your stuff?" he said, his voice equally soft. He arched an eyebrow. "Because if it is, then yeah I'm officially your boyfriend."

She pursed her lips, her eyes twinkling. She dragged her thumb over his lower lip, keeping coy. "Still putting ultimatums on me, huh Riggins?" She never used his last name. To her he was always Tim. Once in a blue moon he was 'Timothy', when she wanted to really piss him off or get him riled up. She stretched out further over him, folding her hands on his shoulders. He turned his head slightly, opening one eye. She smirked. "Well?"

He closed his eyes again, settling back on his arms, shrugging a shoulder. "Maybe."

"I thought we'd finish those."

"You're not really here until you're here." He sighed, mumbling into his coat. "I hate hangovers." I'm really not going to get anything out of you right now, she thought, pushing herself quickly off of him. Oh my God, she thought, grabbing hold of the side of the truck bed, the movement knocking her back with dizziness and nausea. She swallowed hard, bitterness and acid in the back of her throat. Tim pushed her off of him, lifting his head to complain, but his face went white. "Fuck. You okay?"

I must look terrible for you to be swearing at the sight of me. "My head," she mumbled, grabbing at her temple. "Oh God, that was bad…stood up too fast or something…" She swallowed hard again, pressing her palm into her forehead. Damn. Maybe I am experiencing my hangovers differently these days. Tim got out of the truck, reaching for her and lifting her out. Only he didn't put her down, but carried her around to the cab. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not paralyzed."

"Well if you were it'd be easier than carrying Street." He put her in the cab and grabbed his coat, climbing up into the front seat. He waited a moment and then glanced in her direction. "So…I'm not…doing what you said. I just want…to make sure you're here before we say something."

This is on you, he'd told her over and over again. It was still on her, she supposed, even though they'd come to terms with it all. I'm here, she thought, looking over at him and smiling. She reached for his hand, squeezing his fingers tight. "I'm not leaving. I know you have every reason to think I will, but I'm not. I…" she closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Geez. What the hell hangover is this, she thought, shaking her head slightly to make it go away. All that did was make it worse.

Deep breaths, she thought, leaning between her knees. "Shit Lyla, I'm taking you to the doctor."

The nausea was practically blinding. She felt her stomach cramp up and her eyes get fuzzy. I'm fine, she thought, it's just a hangover. Only it wasn't a hangover. Something's wrong, she thought. She looked up, seeing him frowning at her. He was always so concerned with her. So sweet. "I'm fine," she remembered saying before everything went black.

How long she was out, Lyla couldn't say. Just that she was waking up in a hospital room, a machine beeping beside her. She blinked a few times; the room she was in was dim. She felt pinching in her elbow; IV. Hissing and contracting on her upper arm; automatic blood pressure cuff. Cold finger; pulse/ox monitor. Dripping sound; IV fluids. She blinked a few more times and lifted her head, staring straight out a glass door and into the Dillon ER.

"Damnit," she mumbled, looking sideways at the screen. Her blood pressure was fine, her heart rate was normal, and it looked like she'd just downed a bag of glucose. She felt much better. She lifted herself up a little bit; much, much better. No more nausea. She looked up when the door opened, her eyes widening. "Mrs. Williams!"

"Well I'd ask how you're doing Miss Lyla Garrity but I'd say you're not doing so hot, with Tim Riggins bringing you into the ER and running around here like someone just cut off his throwing arm," Corinna Williams chuckled, fussing about with the monitors and making notes in a file. She set the file and her pen down, leaning over to fiddle with the monitors on her arm. "So how are you feeling? You were pretty well knocked out, the doctor couldn't bring you back."

"I'm fine, what's wrong with me?"

"Oh you know, that's for the doctor to say," Mrs. Williams said. Lyla rolled her eyes; she knew full well that she wasn't going to be able to con anything out of Corinna Williams.

I could try, she thought, smiling warmly up at her. "So how is Smash doing?" she asked.

Corinna arched an eyebrow, shaking her finger at her. "Uh-uh, I don't think so, you are not using talking about Brian to get me to tell you what's going on before the doctor gives me the go ahead, but…" She smiled, tapping her finger on the side of the bed. "I hear that you're the new ER doctor around here. Congratulations."

She smiled in spite of herself. Yeah, she hadn't told Tim that bit of news yet. It would all be official once the hospital in Nashville had her official letter of resignation, but…the talks had been had and the interviews done and she'd gotten her bosses in Nashville to call her recommendations in and everything. It's all going to be okay, she thought, looking up again and frowning slightly. "I thought you were living in Boca Raton, if you don't mind me being forward."

"Yes well, I just need to do something. I need to have purpose and that big ole' mansion in Boca Raton with all those reality show wannabees just…wasn't my thing so I came back here. Brian insisted on building me a mansion, which I'm fine with, don't get me wrong, but I need to do something with my hands. So here I am!" She smiled, chuckling. "It's certainly better than Planned Parenthood in the pay department and the hours department, but I do miss the work I did there."

Lyla smiled, her voice soft. "Would you like to work with kids?"

"What do you think?" she retorted, grinning. "I like kids more than I like adults. They drive you mad and you have to pray to the Good Lord every five minutes for patience, but I like them a lot more than adults." She frowned. "Why?"

"I specialize in the pediatric emergency stuff," she said, smiling quickly. She shrugged. "It's hard, but…I find it more rewarding." And more devastating, but…hell I'm a drama junkie, she thought sarcastically, looking up when the door opened, Tim practically falling inside. And he had visitors, she thought, her eyes widening. "Coach Taylor! Mrs. Taylor! What a surprise! Oh my, Coach, what happened to your hand?"

"He was stupid," Tami said loudly, glaring at Coach Taylor, who seemed sheepish. She nodded towards his bandaged hand. "It's another story for another time, but he deserved it, that's what matters. We saw Tim out in the waiting area, sweetheart, what happened to you? You were fine when we left you last night."

"Well I don't know," Lyla said. She bit her lower lip, running through things in her head. Symptoms. Diagnostics. She'd need to see her levels, of course, she thought, looking up as Tami, Coach, and Corinna began to talk about Smash, who had recently won a Super Bowl. They were all occupied…she leaned over slightly, but someone had other plans.

"You just went all weird and blank and I couldn't wake you up," Tim said, moving her hand away from where she was trying to tug at the corner of her file so she could see lab results. He pulled her towards him, turning her face to him. She smiled; he looked so nervous. "You okay Garrity? I mean…" he laughed a little, still nervous. "What the hell kind of hangover do you have?"

Not a hangover, she thought, biting at her lower lip. Something would be off, for everything to make her this sick so soon, but…it couldn't…she frowned a little, glancing at the file. Absolutely not. No way in hell was that possible. She reached her hand up, brushing lightly at his face. "I'm fine." She dropped her hand to her lap. I think I'm fine, at least. She bit her lower lip again. About…well…six weeks. It was after Christmas now. Oh man, she thought, closing her eyes. "Shit." That had to be it. I'm such a…an idiot, she thought, opening them up when Tim whispered her name. "I'm fine," she repeated.

He frowned slightly; he seemed fearful. He shook his head slightly. "You were white," he whispered, his hand fisting tight in hers. He laughed a little, before frowning. "I don't know what happened, but you were talking and then you went all white and you just closed your eyes. I brought you here and called your dad, but he's in a meeting."

Of course, she thought, smiling slightly. She took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I think." We'll see. We'll see if that's what it is. I'm pretty sure. I'm a doctor, I think I can diagnose myself. She patted his hand, her eyes soft on his. "I love you. You're so sweet."

"I've been called many things, sweet is not one," he said, but he kissed her lightly, turning his head slightly. "Coach how long you staying? You should come by the house."

"Few days, now that I have to let this thing set," Coach Taylor said, smiling down at her. He lightly touched his fingertips to her shoulder. "How are you Lyla? Tim said you gave him a bit of a scare, fainting on him. Are you feeling any better?"

She smiled, nodding and moving her hand a bit on the file again. "Yeah, I'm feeling great actually, if the doctor could just come in and tell me and…and then I'll be on my…"

"Ah!" Lyla jumped, practically to the ceiling at Corinna's exclamation, releasing the file just as the other woman grabbed it from her. She shook her finger at her. "I've a mind to pop your fingers, you might be a doctor, but here you're a patient. No diagnosing yourself. I'll go get Dr. Lang." She shook her head, mumbling. "Doctors make the worse patients."

Damnit, she thought, growling under her breath. "You suck as a sick person," Tim said, kissing her temple. He looked up at Coach. "How'd you break your hand Coach?"

"None of your business Tim Riggins."

"I told you, he was stupid," Tami said, sitting at the end of the bed. She lightly patted her knee. "Well we'll go if you want Lyla, but if you want someone here for you, whatever…" she trailed off, as the doctor and Corinna returned to the room. She smiled again. "Whatever it might be." What do you know, Lyla wanted to ask, her eyes narrowed. Tami's smile was tight, trying not to pull over her entire face. Oh she knew, Lyla thought, glancing away. Of course Mrs. Taylor would have it all figured out.

Dr. Lang, who seemed relatively brisk, opened the file and glanced at it before he looked around the room. "Dr. Garrity if you want this done in private…"

I don't care anymore, she thought, looking up as Coach and Tami excused themselves. Tim didn't get the hint, sitting on the bed still, his hands entwined in hers. She wouldn't be able to pry him off of her if she tried. He still seemed to think she was going to faint again, jumping every time she moved in the bed. She sighed, looking up at him and then nodded. Might as well get this over with in one fell swoop. "Yeah," she murmured. "What is it?"

"You had a loss of nutrients. I take it you were drinking last night?" At her confirmation, the doctor nodded again. "You're dehydrated, exhausted, and you were low on just about everything. Potassium, Magnesium, Iron, all that. In any case, we gave you fluids, we gave you a multivitamin through your IV and recommend continued hydration and rest for the next couple days."

I'm done, she thought, sighing and lifting her eyes again. "What are my progesterone and estrogen levels?" she asked, ignoring Tim's frown at the big words. She looked at Corinna, who was trying not to smile. That might as well have confirmed it. She waved her hand at Tim, when Lang gave him an odd look. "He's the one who did it to me, let's get this over with."

That got her a look of confusion from her beside companion. "Did what?" Tim asked.

Lang shook his head, folding the file back together before dropping it back down onto the tray table beside her machines. "Congratulations Dr. Garrity. You're pregnant."

She closed her eyes, at the same time that she heard Tim's sharp intake of breath. That's what I thought. She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment and forced a smile, tears welling in her eyes. "I'd like…" she could barely finish her request for a moment alone before Corinna and the doctor were leaving them in privacy. She felt him get off the bed and let go of her for the first time since he'd walked into the damn room. "Tim," she murmured. She blinked through tears. Why the hell am I crying, she thought, wiping at her eyes. Ugh. Hormones, she imagined. She grabbed the damn file, scanning her numbers. Shit those are high, I better not have multiples, she thought, dropping it to her lap. She reached for a pen, making a notation for an ultrasound. I want confirmation of that before I leave here today.

She set the file back, looking up at Tim's ashen face. What could she say to this? Whoops? Guess we really weren't careful that one time? Oh wait, we were, she wanted to scream. Why world, why, she felt like yelling. This couldn't have come at a worse possible time in their lives. She guessed that after Mexico could have been worse. Or fine, maybe in high school, but not as adults that should know better. Which they did. Which was why they'd done what you do so you didn't get into this situation, she thought, rubbing at her temple. Of course there's always a chance. And hell, she got it.

Tim cleared his throat, his voice soft. "What…you…" he sighed, frowning. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah," she said, consulting the file again. She nodded in agreement, whispering. "I'm pregnant."

He nodded. Said nothing. Then he frowned, shooting her an accusatory glare. "And you were drinking?"

"I didn't know!" She sighed hard, shaking her head. Damnit. She dropped the file, looking up at him, her voice quiet. He wasn't running for the hills, that was something. "Tim this wasn't planned, you know that. I know that. Let's just move on and…and figure this out." I'm already going to be here. This isn't something that is forcing me to stay when I don't want to stay, so we've got that conversation covered, she thought, feeling the bed sag a little as he sat back down. She looked up again, trying to smile, but she just wanted to curl into a ball and cry. My life, she felt like laughing. Since when has anything I've done been planned? Then she felt sorry for thinking that, because she had a good life. Things could be so much worse.

Tim didn't reach for her hands, instead folding his in his lap, trying to process this, she imagined. He frowned, pushing off from the bed and walked around to end of it, placing his hands on the bottom, his knuckles white as he clenched it. "You aren't even here," he said. He lifted his face to hers, scowling. "How did this happen?"

She glared at him. Asshole. "Do you want me to get a banana and go through the process? Birds and bees?" she snapped.

"Don't be stupid."

"You don't be stupid!" she shouted. She sat up quickly, yanking at the blood pressure cuff so she could move her damn arm. Tugging off the pulse-ox from her finger, she ignored the beeping from the machines as they thought she was now dying. She was so angry. I hate him, she thought, shaking her head. "Funny how life works out you know Tim? We forget in Mexico and nothing happens and then three nights back with everything covered so to speak and look what happened!" She pushed her fingers through her hair, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She continued to speak, carefully removing her IV from her arm, ignoring Tim's sick expression when he saw the catheter coming out. "I'm staying Tim, I told you that weeks ago and this isn't a factor, so that should make you happy. I don't know what's going on, but I'll go back to Tennessee and…and you can see the baby when you want to see the baby I guess. I won't sue you or anything. I won't make you marry me…"

"Will you shut up?"

She turned around quickly, holding her jeans in one hand and her t-shirt in the other. That wasn't what she was expecting. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

Tim shook his head, walking around to the other side of the bed across from her. He put his hands on his hips, his eyes widening slightly. "Shut up Garrity. Just shut up." He sighed, closing his eyes and took a few deep breaths, lifting his face back to hers. He seemed…terrified, she thought. Scared. But something else was there. "Mexico," he sighed, shaking his he again. "I'm never going anywhere Street says again."

Yeah, well, me too, she felt like saying. Jason always seemed to get them into trouble. "Yeah," she whispered.

He looked back at her. "So how pregnant are you?"

"It's not really a varying state. You either are or you aren't."

"You know what I mean."

"Six weeks," she answered. She arched an eyebrow, whispering. "That's when I came back. Three days and then we stopped. Until last week." Until State. Everything was decided, she couldn't very well go back to Vanderbilt and beg for her job back again. They'd say she was insane. They'd be right. She cocked her head. "I don't want you to marry me Tim. I told you."

"Too bad."

"Too bad for you," she replied. I'm not marrying you because of a baby. Let's call it my ultimatum, she thought, leaning back against the wall, still holding her clothes. She hated hospital gowns; it felt like everything was exposed. She smiled slightly. "Call it my ultimatum Tim. You're not marrying me because of a baby. You're going to marry me because we will sit down and discuss it." He made a face. Yeah, well too bad, she thought again. "And I'm going to move in with you and we will raise this baby together. Nothing will have changed, except the fact that I'm going to be…having a baby," she said, continuing on. She glared at him. "Unless that's not what you want."

Tim shrugged, whispering. "It's your choice."

"Not that."

"Well than what? Sorry Lyla, but I'm not jumping up and down here that we're having a kid and you're not even really living here yet!" he exclaimed. He hit his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He shook his head again, looking down at his hands. A few minutes passed between them, until he pushed away from the wall and walked around the bed to her. Don't do it, she thought, trying to move away, but he grabbed her and pulled her tight to his chest. Why, she wondered, her face turned into his chest, do you have to do this? Piss me off to where I want to kill you but then be so sweet to make me love you?

She closed her eyes, waiting a few minutes, her voice quiet. "So does this mean…" I don't know what it means.

"We're having a kid," he said, his chin on top of her head. She felt like slight rumble of the chuckle. "Your dad is going to kill me." I don't know why I'm crying, she thought, letting out a sob, even though she wanted to laugh. She wiped at her eyes, crying and looking up at him, but she was smiling. He laughed. "Why you crying?" he said, wiping at her cheeks.

Because my dad is the biggest thing you can worry about now, she thought, laughing and crying again. "Because," she said, smiling wide. "Because I'm not even here yet and…and we've only been back at this for a month and…and Mexico killed just about everything inside of us and nothing is planned and…and now we have a baby coming into it, like that's the last thing we needed, and…and all you can say is that my dad is going to kill you!" She laughed again, before the tears came back.

He smiled, but it was also kind of a grimace. My dad won't kill you. He's going to freak out, but Buddy Garrity's reactions to just about everything were fairly manic. She'd never known her father to have a moderate reaction to anything. Except maybe really bad things involving her. The few times he'd been there to comfort her he'd been quiet and allowed her to have a moment. Maybe he'd do that this time, she thought, pulling away from Tim when the door opened again. She wiped at her eyes, smiling shakily. "Hi Daddy."

"Oh baby, are you okay?" Buddy exclaimed, hurrying over to her. "What are you doing up? Get back in bed." He rounded on Tim. "Riggins! Why are you letting her up?"

"She's fine," Tim said.

"Daddy, he brought me here and hasn't left my side all day," she said, getting back into the bed, even though she had no reason to be resting. I'm fine. She looked up ast he door opened again, the Taylors entering the room. She smiled. "You guys are still here."

"We wanted to make sure everything was okay before we went back to visit with Lorraine," Tami said, patting her shoulder. She gripped it lightly, looking down at her, keeping her voice soft. "How are you feeling?"

Lyla looked up, smiling quickly. "I'm fine. Really." She waited a moment, glancing at the men, who were talking. Buddy was saying something to Tim and Coach was trying to step between them. She knew Tim could hold his own against her father nowadays. He was more secure with Buddy than he'd ever been. She smiled up at Mrs. Taylor. "What do you know?"

Tami cocked her head, relatively innocent. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on Mrs. Taylor." She smiled again. "You know." She waited a moment, her voice soft again. "How?"

"Well," Tami said, turning to sit at the edge of her bed. Her eyes twinkled. "Call it a mother's intuition. The minute I heard Corinna say that you were nauseous after morning and dehydrated and all that…well I kind of figured." She looked over at Tim. "He seems…well not happy, but…"

"I think we're just happy there's not a Tim-shaped hole in the door," she said, smiling again. That's all she could have hoped for at least. She smiled briefly, keeping her voice down so only Tami could hear her. "You find it funny that…Tim and I don't see each other for almost a decade and…and after three days we can be right back where we were before? I mean…sometimes I stop and wonder. I feel like my life just moves from one side to another and so fast I can't catch my breath." She swallowed hard, whispering. "Jason told me I was a drama junkie, basically. I guess getting pregnant on accident by your…whatever Tim is to me, after…it's been three months since Mexico. Since I saw him again. I just can't believe that." She paused, snorting. "Talk about drama."

Tami reached over, patting her wrist, squeezing it comfortingly. "I wouldn't say you're a drama junkie Lyla. I wouldn't even call you an addict, but…" There's the but, Lyla thought, looking up again. She took a deep breath, smiling. "But I'd say that there is a pattern of behavior. I think you just…well quite honestly we're all drawn to certain things. Attracted to them. Some want stability. Others want comfort. Do you think Coach Taylor was a raging bad boy in his youth?" she laughed. She smiled. "I'd had my fill of that and then he came along and it was what I wanted. It's been almost thirty years."

She shook her head, whispering. "I never wanted a bad boy."

"Tim isn't a bad boy," Tami whispered. She quirked her lip. "He's damaged. He's recovered. He's broken. He's healed." She waited a moment, before making her point known. "Just like you." She patted her hand again. "You both are two of a kind. You've gone through a lot together. You're not attracted to him or the situation because you're a drama junkie, although I think Jason just is making it simple to understand like that. I think Lyla that you're here and you can stand these situations because you are strong. It's what you know and you do well with it."

"It's exhausting," she murmured. And it's only going to get worse, she thought, her hand briefly covering her stomach. It's all just exhausting. It'd be nice to have something calm and steady.

Reading her thoughts, Tami arched a brow. "Would anything else satisfy you?"

No. Probably not. She got bored with it. It wasn't her. I'm figuring out who I am, she thought, smiling. That's why I'm here. She squeezed Tami's hand quickly. "Thank you Mrs. Taylor. You always know how to help."

"Call it a gift or a curse," Tami chuckled. She stood up, squeezing her hand again. "And I expect to hear from you about the baby." She smiled quickly. "And whenever you're ready, a wedding."

When I'm ready. I know for sure I'm not ready for that right now. She nodded. "Of course." She looked over at Tim, who was coming towards her. She looked around him at the sight of her father saying goodbye to the Taylors, in the hall. "Did you tell him?"

"Am I bleeding anywhere?"

"Not yet." She looked at her stomach, covering it. A chill went down her spine when Tim suddenly placed his hand on her abdomen, his fingers lightly brushing hers as she did. She looked up. He was looking at it intently. She cleared her throat. "You don't usually tell anyone in the first twelve weeks. That's when…when things can go wrong. I don't want him to know until its certain."

He nodded in agreement. "Fine."

"Fine."

"What about Jason?"

Jason. The one who started this whole thing. I've a mind to kill him next time I see him. I could be living blissfully unaware and lonely in Nashville right now. Content to find a stable man and a stable life and plan everything. Not this unpredictable, exhausting life that she couldn't seem to let go of when Tim came into it. She bit her lower lip, lifting her eyes up. His hand was still on her stomach. "I think we should wait to tell Jason too," she murmured. She covered his hand. "Not because…because we're going to hide anything, but I think we just need to wait."

Tim nodded, crawling with her onto the bed. He touched his head to hers, still holding her hand. "What will we call it?"

"It?"

"Well fine, a boy then. I like the name Wolfgang."

"Oh my God."

"How about…" he pursed his lips, thinking dramatically. "Montana?"

"You are not naming him after Joe Montana." She smirked; it was nice they could joke a little, but she could still feel the tension between them. "What about if it's a girl?"

"Luna."

Lyla was about to make a joke, but she saw how serious he seemed. He covered her stomach again, smiling again, in his own world. "Means 'moon.' In Spanish." He shook his head slightly, whatever thoughts he had, locking themselves back up into whatever box he'd placed them in. She reached around, hugging him.

The door opened again, an ultrasound technician and Corinna coming in, pushing the large machine to a corner. "Dr. Lang noticed that some of your protein levels were a little on the high side, he just wants to run a quick check to make sure everything is going as it should," Corinna said. She shook her head, fussing with Lyla's gown and the blankets. "I don't know why, at six weeks there's hardly a bean."

"Yeah, well I am curious to see this creature for myself," Lyla joked, looking up at Tim. She squeezed his hand. "It's just an ultrasound. Really early, there's not going to be much to see. They don't usually do them this early."

"Oh."

"I'm fine," she said, comforting him. She looked at the screen, watching and flinching as they did the ultrasound, practically flat on her back. She turned her head a little, trying to view the screen. She knew what she was looking for as much as the ultrasound technician. Everything is fine, she thought, viewing the image. Everything…she trailed off in her thoughts, swallowing hard.

Tim sensed it; she knew he would. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

Lyla took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. It was still early. Very early. Practically nothing had developed. There was nothing but a little tadpole in there. Nothing but a heart and the beginnings of a brain. No arms or legs even. So it couldn't be anything. "Nothing," she murmured. She made eye contact with the ultrasound technician, who had seen the early signs too. "Just some extra fluid. Nothing to be concerned about."

"Yet," Tim finished. He wasn't stupid.

Yet, she thought, reaching up and pulling him down for a long kiss. "I love you," she whispered, for the first time since she'd woken up. She brought him back towards her, kissing him again. Shutting him up. She was good at that. "I love you. Let's go to Nashville next week. Pack up my things."

He waited a second. Until he nodded. "Okay."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, glancing at the machine again. The image was frozen. It was real. All of it was real. Now I guess the new journey begins, she thought, letting go of his hand as he went to answer his ringing phone, saying it was Jason. He'd make excuses, not tell him anything just yet. They'd tell him in person, she thought. He'd probably come visit his parents soon. They'd tell him then. None of this would have happened without him, Lyla thought, squeezing her hands over her stomach. Absolutely nothing. Funny how things like that worked.


	10. Visitor

**10. Visitor**

"Lyla you have to get out of bed."

"I'm tired, I'm just resting my eyes," she lied, her head on her pillow and her arms wrapped tight around it. She closed her eyes, huddling under the covers. She felt Tim climb on top of her. "Tim, I'm not in the mood."

"Get out of bed," he said, kissing her cheek. He pulled her hair back from her face, whispering into her ear. "I got you coffee. Decaf vanilla latte. Yum, yum." He kissed her cheek again, hugging around her shoulders, pinning her deeper between him and the mattress. Ugh, she thought, closing her eyes. "Garrity, the doctor said it's not the end of the world, you know that too. So stop moping."

Why are you telling me to stop moping? I'm really tired, that's true. I was up late last night at work. Now I have a day off. She turned her head, peering up at him, mumbling. "You going to come with me to Vanderbilt in a few weeks? The hospital is giving me a going-away party. It's the only time they could get all my favorite people together. I'd like you to be there." Carol had demanded that she meet the man that she'd run away for, the last time Lyla was at Vanderbilt, when she'd gotten all her things and moved everything out of her tiny apartment. It didn't take a lot of time.

It seemed strange; her things intermixed with Tim's. Not that there was much. For one, she had paintings and pictures that she immediately hung up. There was his horrible beaten-up La-Z-Boy, which she'd paired up with two of her Queen Anne chairs. It was hilarious. He had a terrible deer's head he wanted on the mantle, but she put that into his study, which now had two desks, one for each of them. All her medical journals were mixed with his comic books on the bookcase and overall the kitchen now had utensils and dishware.

It was funny though, she'd come to see, that despite their vast differences in possessions, together it worked. Kind of like us, she thought, turning onto her back. He slipped off of her and together they pushed her football jersey up over her stomach. It was hardly a bump. It looked like she'd had a large lunch. "I'm only sixteen weeks," she told him. "You can't see anything."

"You can see enough." Tim dragged his fingertip over her stomach, looking up at her. He smiled. "You want to know if it's a girl or boy?"

"Yeah. I'll find out when I go to work tomorrow." Lies, she thought, trying not to smile into her pillow. She already knew. She just hadn't told him yet. Not until he was ready for it.

He rolled his eyes. "Are you going to give yourself an ultrasound? Stop doing that."

"Why not? I'm perfectly capable." She climbed out of the bed, walking over to the dresser. She picked up her prenatal vitamins, the lot of good it had done her so far, she thought darkly, swallowing one of the pills. She picked up his bottle, glancing at the refill. No more. She turned around, holding it up. "You want me to write you another prescription?"

Tim shook his head, folding his arms back behind his head. "No, I'm fine."

She paused, her hand tight around the almost-empty bottle. There were about five more Buspar left. She glanced at it and then at him. It was filled almost a month ago. He'd been decreasing his dosage on his own. She took a deep breath. "You're going to have withdrawal symptoms." She paused. His hands had been a little shaky lately. "If you're not already."

Tim looked up, not moving from the bed. His voice hardened. "Seems like you don't want me to stop drugging myself."

Damnit. "That's not what this is about."

"You freak out when you find out I'm on all these things and I start going off them and now you want me back on?" he asked. He narrowed his eyes, his voice quiet. "It's not as bad as it was. You've only seen the good side." He waited another moment. "I had a nightmare last night."

I didn't know that. She dropped her hands to her side. "Where was I?"

"You were asleep. You have your own problems."

"Our problems," she corrected him.

Tim looked up again. "Sorry Garrity," he snapped. He gestured to her stomach. "But you seem to be freaking out more about the baby than I am right now. You told me that it's fine, that it's just surgery and she'll be okay."

"I don't know that!" she shouted. She felt a twinge in her side from the sharp movement, reaching to touch it before she scowled at him. Then her face fell; I can't be mad at him, he's compartmentalizing this as much as I am. "Tim our baby has it's insides on its outside, okay? That's not just routine surgery. That's about a month in the hospital. Neonatal care. We won't be able to hold her or him for like a month, okay? I'm going to give birth and not be able to touch my child. That's not routine!" She flung the pill bottle aside, storming by him. "I'm glad you're not on the meds anymore." She paused, shooting him a look. "Just makes me wonder how else you're coping. You haven't come home drunk in awhile."

That was a low blow and he knew it. She closed her eyes, hearing his disdain. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint you. I guess I'll go get drunk now. Or maybe start taking the pills again. We all know you like things to save."

Tim, she thought, turning around. They both gave each other a long look. This was never going to be easy, she thought, walking towards him. He pulled her to him as she closed her eyes, her head going into his chest. They stood like that for a few minutes before she spoke. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm just…"

"Don't say anything," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He squeezed her a little tighter. "It's never easy." It wasn't a question. Because it wasn't a question. It never was easy. He looked up at the sound of knocking on the door. "Who is that?"

"I don't know."

Tim shrugged, walking away from her and to the closet, pulling out his uniform for the day. She left him to change, going down the hall in his jersey and a pair of leggings, her feet encased in thick socks. I feel like I'm going on an adventure in the snow or something, she thought, opening up the door. She smiled warmly at the sight of Jason sitting before her, his surprise not well concealed. "Good morning Jason."

He dropped his hands from his lap to the wheels of his chair, rocking back slightly. After a moment, he nodded. "Good morning Lyla."

"Come inside! I'll get you some coffee, or do you want tea? It's cold out." She closed the door behind him, smiling again. This was fun, she thought, keeping her smile plastered on her face, leading him into the kitchen. She reached for the tea kettle, a silly one shaped like a rooster that she got at a flea market. Jason stared at it. She smiled. "Oh this? I got it at a flea market in Tennessee. You know you can find some really interesting things in the South. People have so much history in their houses and don't even know it. Then there are the old estates, their owners are dying and all. My Queen Anne chairs came from a place in Georgia. They probably belonged to a Confederate general for all I know."

Jason glanced at the chairs and then around the kitchen again. "Has Tim taken up baking?"

"You know Tim does have a Martha Stewart side to him. Made his coffee table out of an old door."

"Lyla."

She stopped, sighing hard as she passed him the mug of tea. She rolled her eyes, nodding to the KitchenAid mixer. "That's mine, yes." She sighed again. "And so are the chairs and everything else. Tim and I are living together." She figured she'd get this all over with now. Might as well. Like ripping off a BandAid. She continued, her voice even and clear. Making no bones about it. "I came back about, well now sixteen weeks ago." She swallowed hard, smiling. "And for the last ten weeks I have been working at Dillon Regional Pediatric Emergency Room. I moved out of my apartment in Nashville and tendered my resignation to Vanderbilt. I'll finish my residency here and I'll take the Boards in Austin instead of Nashville." Here comes the real thing now. She covered her stomach with her hand. "I'm also about three and a half months pregnant, the baby has a congenital condition that will make this a relatively unusual pregnancy, and will need surgery after it's born. Tim and I are not getting married yet, we're going to still work this out little by little as we've been doing since we were sixteen and we're going to raise the baby together after it's born."

Just like we probably would if we were sixteen again, she thought, sighing hard. The thought was frightening. Thank God we did this as adults, she thought, lifting her eyes up to meet Tim's across the kitchen. Who the hell knew how much he'd heard. She pulled her lips in, waiting a moment before sighing hard, blowing out every bit of strength she had just then, leaning against the counter. "So there," she said, finishing it all.

And why the hell am I the one talking, she thought, looking over at Tim. Thankfully they had always been able to communicate without words and he nodded, straightening up from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "So what are you doing here Street?" he asked, walking around to bump fists with Jason. He glanced at her and then to Jason again. "So Lyla told you the happy news?"

"Is it happy?" Jason chuckled, looking between them both, incredulous. He blinked a few times, his surprise still in full effect. "I just…I can't believe it. I mean…three months ago in Mexico I had to lie to you guys just to get you in the same room together. Now…now you..." he said, shooting a look to Lyla. "You're back in Dillon, when you wouldn't stay before, and then you…" he shot a look to Tim. "Couldn't get up in the morning without five or six pills a shot of Jim."

"I really prefer Jack Daniels," Tim said, keeping up the humor. He smiled, laughing and threw his arms in the air. "Who cares Street? I don't. Lyla doesn't. You shouldn't. Let's go."

"When are you guys getting married?" Jason asked, glancing between them again as they walked, and in his case wheeled, to the French doors leading to the porch. He pushed himself out onto the porch, looking up at them both for an answer.

Tim sighed, scowling at Lyla. "I want to get married now."

"And I want to get married when we're ready," she snapped. It was a big deal. A commitment. She also had in mind, unlike her mother, to be married once. They were not married yet. If Tim made that commitment now…maybe he was ready for it. He wanted it so much, that permanent connection. He'd be fine, she knew that, but…well she wasn't sure that she would be as fine just yet.

"When you're ready," Tim retorted.

Jason closed his eyes, reaching to rub at his temple. "You both kill me." He sighed, dropping his hand to the wheel of his chair, nodding towards her. "Sixteen weeks, huh?"

"Yes." She ran her hand over her stomach, smiling. She was hoping to feel the baby kick soon. She knew that the…the issue wouldn't stop the little guy from moving around. It would just be an issue after birth. She'd be fine. She closed her eyes, feeling tired. I need to rest. It was a day off and she worked as many hours as she normally did. Being pregnant wouldn't be the greatest, but she wouldn't let it stop her. Women had babies in fields back in the day, she thought, walking away from Jason and Tim. They could talk.

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"I'm going to change."

"You going to come with us to town later?"

She leaned against the doorframe. "What are you guys going to be doing?"

Jason smiled, looking at Tim and then back to her. He shrugged. "Going to hang around here and drink. You won't be fun, you can't."

"No, but I can make sure you guys don't get into trouble," she teased, pushing away from the doorframe, grinning. She went to her room and changed, unhappy to discover that she had to use a rubber band to get her jeans to stay together. Maybe I need to start getting maternity clothes, she thought, scowling at the thought. She left the room, going down the hall and finding they were already breaking into the whiskey. "You idiots," she said, sighing. She glanced at the clock. "It's not even nine!"

"Just a pinch," Tim said, knocking his flowered teacup into the one Jason was holding. They looked so stupid, the both of them, incredibly masculine and cupping little flowered teacups and saucers. She shook her head. They were ridiculous. He finished his cup, setting it down on the counter. "I have to go to work. I'll be back later."

Lyla stood in the doorway, smiling when he kissed her belly first before he kissed her lightly, leaving her with a pat on the stomach. She smiled quickly at Jason, knowing he'd seen the incredibly intimate exchange. "He thinks the baby can feel him," she said, explaining. She shook her head, smiling. "He doesn't believe me when I tell him the baby has no real cognitive thought."

"He doesn't care," Jason said, wheeling himself into the living room beside her. She sat down in Tim's chair and he wheeled around to across from the coffee table between them, smiling. "Wow. I'm not even here an hour and…and all this change. You guys don't do anything half-assed."

"Why would we?" she chuckled. She covered her hand over her stomach. "Better just do it all now. It's going to be…difficult." She figured that was the best word for it. She sighed hard, her voice quiet. "I'm tired all the time and…and the doctors can't get my levels of anything to even out. I feel manic."

Jason cocked his head. "The baby is okay though?"

"No," she answered truthfully. She smiled sadly. "The baby's abdominal wall closed around its intestines. They're on the outside so…so when the baby's born, they have to do some surgery and then wait about a week and then do another surgery. It's going to be a rough go of it all. I won't be able to actually give birth either. I'll need a planned C-section." She sighed again, whispering. "And everything else…it's just slow going. She should be more fully formed now, the doctor said don't worry I've still got another five months of this, but it's hard to think like that knowing that your baby is going to have to be strong the second it takes a breath." She swallowed hard, whispering. "And you'll have to be strong too. Then there's Tim."

"Tim seems fine," he said softly. He shook his head at her look. "No, seriously. I think I'm the best judge of his character other than you and you're biased right now. Tim loves you and he's going to love whatever the hell you guys made together," he said, laughing. Even she had to smile at that. Like it was a science experiment or something. I shouldn't laugh, it wasn't funny, not given how serious it was with the baby. She bit her lower lip, smiling at him. Jason always knew how to make things better. He wheeled himself over, reaching for her hands. She leaned forward, smiling and folded her hands in his. He looked her straight in the eye, dead serious. "I love you Lyla. I've loved you for…for forever, it seems like." He took a deep breath, before he smiled again, his voice soft. "And I want you happy. That's all. I want Tim happy. If both of you guys do that for each other, then you're done. It's as simple as that."

But it wasn't, she wanted to say, nibbling her lip. "But what…" she began, but Jason was already shaking his head, interrupting.

"No. Don't do that. No second-guessing. You guys left Mexico with a plan. A stupid plan, I think you should have just left together, because you were sad to go and Tim was sad to see you go, but…but here you are." He grinned. "I knew it wouldn't take long for something to get you to come back here. You did. That's what matters. Who cares what the reason was, you know? You came back. You're here and you guys are having a baby. What more do you want the universe to tell you? Your baby isn't going to be perfect when its born, but you know what Lyla? This is just another thing. Aren't you the one who was always saying that? It's just a test. God and all that?"

She wasn't sure of that anymore, she thought, looking up at him again. "You don't believe in God," she whispered, feeling a chill down her spine at even saying that.

Jason shook his head in agreement. "Not the way that you do. Everyone's faith is different Lyla. Everyone interprets things differently." He paused. "You can't compare my faith to yours." No, she didn't suppose that you could. He looked down at their hands again. "Tim loves you. He's here. That's something, you know? He wants this otherwise he would have been long gone and you'd be in Nashville. I don't know what you want from him, because I think he's given you everything he has. He's so much better Lyla, you make him better."

She heard the words before she knew she was saying them. "Does he make me better?" She lifted her head up. Everyone always said that about her and Tim. That she made him a better version of himself. Brought out the best in him. She'd learned the hard way you couldn't get him to do anything that he didn't want to do and yes, he would never be the guy that would take her to fancy dinners on her birthday or their anniversary. If he remembered either. She knew that. She understood it, but the problem with Tim was that he wouldn't give either. He wouldn't bend when she wanted him to bend, like with this. He put down ultimatums a lot of the time. You're with me or against me. You either love me or you don't. It wasn't as black and white as that a lot of the time.

Jason shook his head, shrugging again. "He makes you better, Lyla. We've been through this. I think you're so used to overthinking things with him and your life life that you let it consume you and you don't need to do that. Accept the fact that you're here now and if you don't want to be, you'd be gone by now." He paused. "Or else you would be thinking about it. Which I know you're not, because I saw the way you looked at him when he left."

She lifted her eyes. "How did I do that?" she asked.

"Like how I look at Erin. Like how he looks at you." He smiled. "You love him. You're happy here, I told you. I know you guys. You were miserable in Mexico until you guys…whatever the hell you did to each other," he laughed. He grinned wide. "And it's the same now. You're happy. Just take that. Take that and face whatever else you have to face together. Now that you are together."

We are, she thought, smiling again. Her voice softened. "I'm not marrying him because I'm scared, Jason or anything like that. I don't want to marry him and…" she trailed off, looking away. It was kind of morbid. "Look if anything happens…happens with the baby…I just…" She took a deep breath, fixating on him again. "I've already changed a lot in my life right now. Same for Tim. A wedding? Marriage? I think that's too much for us right now. Let's finish this and then go from there," she said.

"Makes sense." Jason waited a second. He smiled. "What'd your dad do?"

She rolled her eyes. "Wanted to know if I did it on purpose, if you could believe that. He's so rude sometimes."

"I guess I can. What'd he do to Tim?"

"Told him if he did anything to the kid or if the kid ended up like Tim he'd kill him," she said. She grinned, laughing, remembering that dinner they'd had in her father's condo, when they'd broken the news. At the same time, after the joking and happiness had died down, they'd told him about everything else too. Buddy had been terrified, but she knew he'd be there for her. "But he did make sure to tell me that if I know what's good for me as his daughter, the baby is a State-winning Panther one day."

Jason frowned. "Does he know that Tim is the one who decides if it's a boy or girl and even then it's really not in his control?"

"I didn't want to get into it with him…" she trailed off, her hand smoothing over her tiny belly. She felt her lips pulling up and her eyes sparkled. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Shoot."

"I peeked." She smiled at Jason's surprised look. She shrugged, her voice quiet. "I gave myself an ultrasound the other day. I promised Tim I'd stop being my own doctor, but I won't. Anyways…it's a girl. Or at least, I'm pretty sure it's a girl, it's kind of hard to tell, but…if it were a boy it would have been a lot more visible by now."

"And Tim doesn't know?" Jason asked.

She shook her head. Tim would find out same as her when they went in for her official appointment in a couple weeks. She didn't prefer either, she just wanted the baby to be healthy. To survive. "No, he doesn't know yet…he's kind of funny about it. He talks to the baby like it's a boy, but I think he secretly wants a little girl to protect. I think he sees that you have one too and now he wants one."

"Like a little kid," Jason said. He grinned. "Erin hasn't had the baby yet. She still has two months."

"Well he's already got a name picked out."

"What is it? Some football thing? He's not going to want to call the baby Gridiron or Dillon or anything right?"

"Oh God, I hope not, to give him any ideas," she said, laughing. She sat up a little in the chair, smiling softly at her stomach. They weren't really talking names until they found out. Just joking, but one kept popping up with him. Her voice softened. "He keeps going back to the name Luna for some reason. I thought he was kind of kidding for a bit, but he repeats it a lot. I think he's serious."

"Luna?" Jason repeated, making a face. He shrugged, but didn't seem to care for it. "I don't know why that name would be a big deal for him. Not like it's his mother's name or grandma or anything."

"No, but I think he wants something in Spanish, because of Mexico. Something unique and he goes back to Luna, maybe because it's the only word he knows that makes a pretty name or something."

"He could name her Tequila."

She scowled. "Don't put ideas in his head."

"The idea is probably already in Tim's head," Jason said, laughing when she reached to swat at him, getting up from the chair. He wheeled into the kitchen, nodding towards her again. "So what does Billy think of this? Or Tyra, for that matter?"

She took a sip of tea, shaking her head at the thought of either of them. "Well," she drawled, arching an eyebrow. "Tyra just wanted to know if that meant I was really staying or if I was going to take the baby with me. God only knows what she talked about with Tim. Billy thought it was…well I think Billy sees it as a chance to get Tim back for good, without little stops of angst in between," she said, her voice soft. Billy had been nervous for them both, when they told him, probably not sure if he should be happy or disappointed. Then when Tim had said he'd need advice on being a father from him, kind of like a peace offering she guessed, Billy had been ecstatic. Billy wasn't a bad dad. He just made bad decisions sometimes.

Becky had been through the roof, talking about all the things she was going to buy for the baby. Then she'd been annoyed that Tim was having a baby before she did and she was married and had been for some time now. The only person they still had to tell about her pregnancy was Jason and then her mother. "My mother doesn't know," she said, grimacing.

Jason's mouth dropped. "Lyla! You're almost at five months!"

"Well you don't tell until the twelfth week and I'm only sixteen!"

"That's four, you still have four more weeks before the baby starts hitting the growth spurts!"

"I know!" she exclaimed, grimacing again. It was just going to be such an exhausting conversation and she really didn't want to have it. She smiled again. "I'll tell her when she comes to visit me in a couple weeks. In Nashville. She doesn't know I've moved either."

"Oh my God Lyla you are a terrible daughter."

"Then I'll be a terrible mother too," she teased, sipping her tea. She set the cup down; she hadn't thought much about that. Guess I have to get to that point. She lifted her eyes to Jason, who was smiling warmly at her. She shrugged, her voice soft. "What? What are you thinking?"

He shook his head, whispering. "You're going to be an amazing mom. You and Tim are going to make good parents." He paused. "Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because both of you were raised by selfish people," Jason said. He smiled again, cocking his head slightly. "And you'll know already what not to do. You'll make sure your kid never lives like that, wanting for their parents' love and approval."

I hope not, she thought, covering her stomach with her hand. She smirked. "The baby will just grow up with a crazy man and the drama junkie instead." It was supposed to be funny, but Jason wasn't smiling. She looked down, sheepish. "Sorry…bad joke."

"Tim's not crazy, no matter what people in town might think of him and although I said it your…" he shrugged. "Attraction to danger is what makes you…you. It's why Tim loves you."

"It's not WHY Tim loves me," she said, trying to bring some levity back to the situation. She smiled, sipping her tea again. She felt kind of dark. "Tim loves me because I don't tell anyone that he likes drinking tea out of flowered cups."

Jason waited for a second. "He drinks beer out of them, doesn't he?"

The cup clattered in its saucer when she set it down rather hard. "Well how do you know that?"

"Because I know Tim and it's totally something he'd do," he laughed. He rolled his eyes. "He's pretty weird. How's his medication going?"

She thought to their conversation that morning. "He's dosing down. Doesn't want them anymore." She waited a beat, frowning. "Said he had a nightmare. It wasn't very bad, I didn't wake up for it." She'd been sleeping really deeply anyway. Recovering from work before she went back to it again. She smiled quickly. "Let's stop talking about this. Tim works until about six-thirty, we'll keep ourselves busy until then and one of the things I wanted to do while he was gone was to start with the baby's room."

"Don't you want to be absolutely certain if it's a girl or boy first before you do that?"

"No, I want the theme to be Noah's Ark. That's good for a boy or a girl and it's a girl, so it doesn't matter." Lyla picked up her bag and her car keys, walking out of the house. She closed the door behind her, waiting for Jason to wheel himself down the short ramp that Tim had always had beside the house. She smirked. "Did Tim put that in after you guys started talking again? After Mexico?"

Jason shook his head, rolling down towards her Jeep. He swung around to the passenger side, smiling, his voice soft. "Would you believe it if I told you that when I came to see him after he got out of jail that that ramp was there? He told me to go away and not bother him again, but he built a ramp to his house."

I can believe that very much, she thought. She opened up the door for him, helping him up and into the passenger seat. He rolled down the window as she folded up his chair to put in the back. She shook her head slightly, snapping the wheels in. "You know, our Tim…he makes me want to punch him when I hear things like that."

"Yeah, he's complicated."

She put the chair away, going around to the front seat. She sat in the running car for a moment before she glanced at Jason. "Did you have any plans for us when you brought us to Mexico? Any idea that you were going to do this to us?" If he said yes, she wasn't sure what he'd do. If he said no, well…she wasn't quite sure she'd completely believe him.

Jason sat in silence. Until he laughed, knocking his head lightly into the window. "I had no idea what I was doing when I called us all there. All I wanted was for us to be friends again."

"You know what Tim and I are like."

"I do know what you guys are like. Gasoline and a match. Moth and flame. Whatever you want to call it, the two of you get within five feet of each other and you start orbiting around each other." Jason snorted. "I don't know what Mexico was supposed to be other than the three of us being friends again. We're friends again, you and Tim are…whatever you are again, and hell, there's a little Texas Forever baby on its way now."

Texas Forever baby, she thought, unable to stop the smile from her face. She turned towards him, her grin wide and toothy. What a great name, she thought, laughing. "Texas Forever baby?" she teased. Jason rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. She shook her head again, looking down and covered her stomach. "Oh my gosh. That's…that's great, I love it. It's so true."

"I still can't believe Tim isn't going to name the baby Texas."

"Again," she repeated, laughing, putting the car into gear. She backed out of the driveway onto the street, shoving her sunglasses on. "Don't give him any ideas. Don't say anything like that around him, my baby is not going to be named Texas."

"Dallas."

"That's a stripper name."

"Austin."

She smiled. "Hey, I actually like that name." She waited for a moment at Jason's surprised look. Her eyes twinkled, mischievous. "For a girl."

He shook his head, coming up with more names. "El Paso."

"Okay, well now you're just being stupid."


	11. Normal

**11. Normal**

"Are you okay Lyla?"

If someone asks me that one more time, she silently threatened, glaring out of the corner of her eye at Tyra. The other woman didn't seem like she meant anything by it other than genuine concern. "Fine," she mumbled, feeling a little bad for instantly thinking the worse. She sat back in her chair at the bar, unable to get comfortable. This had to be the pregnancy from hell. She'd been all over the place emotionally, the baby had threatened to need in-utero surgery when they thought they found a heart murmur, but that had thank God, cleared up. Then there was the fact that now the little thing had maneuvered to her sciatic nerve and set up camp.

She shifted again as another pain shot down her leg. I hate this, she thought, closing her eyes. God, if this is punishment, I'm truly sorry. I donate to the church, I help people, and I pray every night, I'm really sorry for everything I do wrong, but please, please, get this baby out, she thought, opening her eyes and looking at Tim, who was studying her.

I hate when I don't know what he's thinking, she thought, rolling her eyes at him. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"Stop looking at me."

"You're my girlfriend, I can look at you."

"Well don't." She moved again, wincing and glanced down at her stomach. She looked over at Tyra, who was smiling to herself. She scowled. "What is so funny?"

"You guys. You guys are funny," Tyra decided, sipping her drink. It was some sort of vodka thing. She pulled at her straw, setting it down with a light clink on the worn wooden table. She waved her finger between them both. "Are you guys talking marriage yet?"

They exchanged a look. "Knock it off," Tim warned.

"I'm just asking! Geez, you guys are no fun. If I'd have known that this weekend would mean I'm getting yelled at by the both of you, I could have just stayed home," Tyra said.

"Why are you here?"

"Mindy had to work a few extra shifts and she didn't have anyone to watch the kids, I have a day off on Monday, and thought I'd make a long weekend of it," Tyra explained. She looked over at the stage, where Landry and Crucifictorious were playing. S he lifted up her beer bottle, smiling long and slow at Tim. "And I was feeling a little lonely. Now I'm here with people."

To Lyla's surprise, Tim slammed down his beer bottle on the table. "Leave him alone," he said, his eyes widening slightly. He shook his head at Tyra's wide-eyed look. "Don't get cute. Leave him alone. He's got a girlfriend, she's a teacher. She's nice."

All he had to say was 'unlike you' to get his point across, Lyla thought, seeing Tyra's hurt look. The other woman set her glass down, frowning at it before looking over at Tim, whispering. "You know you can be an ass."

"I know." Tim didn't seem sorry about it. He was defending Landry, Lyla thought; although really, Tyra hadn't said or really done anything, but clearly she'd been interested in going to Landry. I guess it's nice Landry has Tim to protect him, but Lyla knew that Landry could protect himself.

She cleared her throat, hoping to change the conversation. "I think I'm going to get a tattoo," she announced. There, that should do it.

Tyra whipped her head around, laughing. "Excuse me?"

"No," Tim said.

"You do not make decisions for me."

"You are not getting a tattoo."

"You do not make decisions for me," she repeated, leaning back in her chair. She sighed, pretending to think; she had no interest in getting a tattoo. Tim had two, she'd discovered since they'd hooked back up. Both were on his ribs, only visible when he walked around without a shirt, which was rare these days. She thought they were pretty hot, to be honest with you, mostly because she'd been so surprised by them. She smiled at his scowl. "I'm just messing with you sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"But it's cute. Pumpkin."

"Okay snickerdoodle."

"Shut up."

Tyra rolled her eyes, reaching for her empty glass. "You both make me sick." She pushed back her chair, wiggling the glass so ice clinked against the sides. "I'm getting another. Don't kill each other until I get back so I can watch."

With Tyra gone now, Tim leaned in over the table towards her, reaching to pick up her fingertips, moving them around. He covered her belly with his free hand, his voice soft as he leaned his head into hers. She touched her forehead lightly against his. "What do you want me to do to make you feel better?" he asked, lifting his eyes to hers. He lifted an eyebrow. "Because I thought coming out would make you happier, but it's not. I can't read your mind Garrity."

No, you can't. It's not very fair to you. She'd been miserable the past few days. She took a deep breath, smiling a little. "You could accelerate my pregnancy," she chuckled, smiling sadly. "And make the baby better." She closed her eyes at his disappointed, but silent look. She dropped her head to his again, whispering. "I'm sorry."

He kissed her lightly, whispering. "You don't feel sorry for yourself so don't start now."

I know and I hate it when I do; there were so many other children out there who were worse off than her baby. She swallowed hard, shaking her head a little. "I just don't feel good," she whispered; she really didn't. She had a headache and was just tired. I'm working too much; she just didn't want to delay her residency any further than her few weeks off had been. Tim nodded; something was going through his head then. She frowned. "What are you thinking?"

He looked up at Landry, who was singing a song about being better than your ex, which she wondered was directed at Tyra, who was now hanging at the bar, still watching him. Those two need to talk; they really hadn't in over ten years, she'd found out since coming back. She glanced at him again. Oh please, she thought, her eyes widening when he stood up, glaring at her. "Because I love you," he said loudly, over the sound of Landry's guitar playing.

She let out a laugh, jumping in her seat happily when Landry finished the song and turned to look over his shoulder, smiling into the microphone. "So our next song will have a new drummer, complete with solo. Everyone give it up for Tim Riggins!"

Tim tossed the sticks in the air, spinning the around before he played out a loud sequence, ending it with a slam of the stick on the cymbals. He smiled down at her, saluting with one of the drumsticks, starting to play as Landry began to strum the guitar. Lyla grinned, staring at him as they played the fast-paced song, clapping her hands when Landry stepped aside partway through, letting Tim have his solo.

Look how happy he actually is, she thought, grinning and clapping her hands as Tim didn't miss a beat, so to speak, his hands flying as he hit the drums. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. This couldn't possibly be the dark and brooding man she'd seen almost five months ago. Hell, she thought, covering her stomach with her hand. I know I'm not the same woman.

He flung the sticks up the air, catching them before crashing them back down, ending the solo and grinning as the bar erupted in applause. He pointed them at her, still smiling. You did it, she thought, clapping her hands and hollering for an encore. Landry began to play another song, with Tim catching on quickly. She looked up when Tyra came back over, sitting down beside her. "He's pretty cute up there, isn't he?" she asked.

"He's really hot," Lyla said, not caring that it was Tyra she was speaking with. She ran her tongue over her lips. She narrowed her eyes slightly, meeting Tim's eyes. He frowned slightly at her, but then smiled, realizing the look she was giving him. Yeah, she thought, rubbing her stomach lightly. He was really, really hot up there. "What is it with drummers?" she wondered out loud.

"Or guitarists," Tyra said, still looking at the stage. She glanced at Lyla. "Should I go for it?"

Was she seriously asking her for relationship advice? Lyla shrugged, breaking away from looking at Tim to meet Tyra's gaze. She waited a moment; it wasn't the same with them. It really wasn't. She shook her head slightly, her voice quiet, Tyra leaning forward to hear her over the sound of the music. "Be careful. It won't end the same."

"What do you mean by that?"

She bit her lower lip, shaking her head again. "It's a lot. It takes a lot. It's a lot to get over and you can't just do it and expect to walk away friends. Or forget that it ever happened, because you can't. You care too much. I wouldn't do it."

Tyra looked away again. She shook her head slightly and then nodded in agreement. "Okay." She shrugged again, picking up her drink. "I'm sort of seeing a guy in Austin anyway. I just…I don't know. We'll see."

The band finished playing, taking a break. Tim ran over and slid into the chair beside her, reaching up for her neck and pulling her down to him in a hot, intense kiss. He broke away, biting her lower lip. "Feel better now?" he asked, laughing when she pulled him back for another kiss. Once she was done this time, she nodded. I feel much, much better, she thought, her hand still around his neck. He poked her stomach. "You're going to have to remember that for awhile. I'm not doing it again."

"You will, you were having a blast."

"It's a hobby."

It's an outlet, she thought, kissing him again. Like football. Or drinking. Only it's a better outlet than drinking and a bit safer than football at his age. She felt the baby kicking her, wincing. "You shook something loose in there," she teased, wincing again as a shock of pain went up her back. Aw, damnit, she thought, ignoring the feeling. It was just a Braxton-Hicks. Even if it was a bit early for those, but…but oh well, she thought.

Tim frowned, his hand touching the side of her stomach lightly. "You okay? Baby okay?"

"Everyone's fine. Just tired. That was awesome though, I feel a lot better now." She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him against her for a few minutes before he let go, done with the public display of affection for now. He got up to get something more to drink, leaving her to sit with Tyra, who was on her phone texting. Maybe the guy in Austin, she thought, reaching for her club soda.

That night she felt more pain in her back and side, but ignored it. She didn't want to worry anyone. She got up the next morning, left for work, and went about her day, feeling a bit like a house in her scrubs, which were tight around her stomach, but at least no one could say she was just 'gaining weight.' She walked over to the main desk, checking in and seeing she had a patient in one of the baby rooms.

"New mother," Corinna said, by way of explanation, when she looked up from the computer. She smiled, nodding towards her stomach. "Might listen more to you, since you're about to be one yourself."

Lyla smiled a little; yeah, she supposed that was true. She shrugged. "We'll see. I know nothing about infants. I like them fine, but…this baby is going to be different." This baby is going to be in surgery a few hours after she's born, she thought. She's going to have to be strong. Which she would. She was part Garrity and part Riggins. If this kid doesn't develop a drinking problem, she could probably rule the world, Lyla thought, walking into the baby room and smiling wide at the woman sitting with a baby carrier. "I'm Dr. Garrity," she said, offering her hand. "You must be Anna and this must be James, hello cutie," she cooed, leaning in to tickle his belly. He smiled up at her, chortling. Didn't seem sick. She smiled at Anna, who fussed a bit with his blanket. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Well he just wouldn't stop crying, he's been sleeping through the night but he wouldn't stop last night and I just want to make sure it's nothing serious, like a stomach virus or something," Anna fretted.

Lyla smiled briefly; new parents, she thought. She once had a woman come in freaking out because her baby's temperature had fallen to 96 instead of 97. Then there were some who didn't seem to care that their kids had raging fevers. Everyone was different. She checked out little James, who she did note had a slight fever. He was a bit fussy, once she started examining him. "Oh he's just got a little cold," she said, reaching into a drawer for a suction bulb and a tray, to clean out his nose. "I'm just going to get his nose clear a bit, I'll send one of these home with you so you can do it every couple of hours. Baby aspirin should be fine for his fever and if it gets worse or he develops a rash or anything, bring him back in. Cutie." She pursed her lips at him, smiling when the baby grinned back at her, showing off empty gums. He could also be teething too, she thought, running her finger under his gums. Yup. There were some little nubs coming in.

Anna smiled politely at her. "How far along are you?"

"About six months," she said, her hand instantly going to her stomach. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, walking over to type into the computer her diagnosis. She looked over her shoulder, smiling again. "I can't wait until she's here, it's driving me crazy."

"Oh it's a girl? That's nice."

"Yeah, a girl." She felt the little girl kick her hard and closed her eyes, swallowing hard as pain began to develop again in her lower back. Seriously? What are you doing? Somersaults on my sciatic nerve? She turned around, to tell Anna about just letting little James rest, when she leaned back hard against the counter. Oh God that hurts, she thought, closing her eyes tight. "Ow!"

"Do you want me to get someone?" Anna asked, standing quickly. She rushed to the door, leaning out. "Excuse me! Someone come quick!"

Corinna appeared a moment later, shaking her head. "Lyla, Lyla, you just can't seem to be left alone now can you? Come on up, how bad is the pain?"

"Ten," she grit through her teeth, using the stupid little smiling face scale that they gave to the kids to explain their pain level. She was definitely the sad frowning face right now. She leaned against the bed, her voice tight, lifting her eyes to Corinna. "It's a contraction."

They both knew she couldn't give birth this early. The baby was still underdeveloped. Corinna nodded, calling in for someone to come get her. Great, Lyla thought, saying goodbye to Anna and James. The ER doctor couldn't even finish a visit without going into premature labor, that's nice. She leaned in the chair, being whisked away to one of the rooms on the other side of the ER, with all the adult equipment.

A few hours later, she was recommended bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy. Well that's not going to kill me, she thought, looking up when the door burst open, Tim barging in. "What the fuck?" he demanded. He threw his arms out in the air. "You don't want to call me and say that you're having the baby now!?"

"Hello darling, I missed you so much," she drawled. She smiled sweetly. "How was your day?"

"Language Tim," Corinna warned.

He ignored them all, rounding on her. "You should have called me, I had to hear from Mrs. Williams!"

"You called him?" Lyla exclaimed.

Corinna shrugged, innocent and flicking through her chart. "I have no idea what you guys are talking about, I'll go get the doctor Lyla, you can go home soon. Bed rest."

That got Tim to calm down a bit, but he was still anxious. "Bed rest?" he demanded. "Why bed rest?"

She rolled her eyes, keeping her voice quiet. It was just the way things were going, she supposed. Constant challenges. Never anything going…right, she supposed, taking a deep breath. I will face this like I face everything else. It's just one more thing that Tim and I need to get through. Maybe if we get through this, we'll be together forever, she thought. She slowly released it, patting the top of her stomach. "I was having contractions, so they gave me medication to stop them, but I'm on bed rest. No more standing and working 24-hour shifts and 80 hour weeks," she said. She was going to be so far behind on her residency if this kept up. She looked up at him, quiet. "I'll be okay on my own at the house, don't take off work."

He cocked his head, scowling. "I don't think so," he said. He shrugged. "They said they'll give me time off. It's no big deal."

"Tim, you took off a few times too many, don't bother, not until the baby's born and you'll be taking off to help." She closed her eyes, breathing deep a few more times. She looked over at him again; he was still scowling at her. She felt her tone bite, a little more than she intended. "What did I do wrong now Tim?"

His nostrils flared, annoyed. Well too bad. "You didn't do anything wrong," he whispered. He shook his head again, scowling . "You don't do things wrong Lyla, you just…" he sighed hard. "You didn't call me. I heard from someone else."

"I didn't want you to worry at work."

"Well worry me at work, that's my kid in there and she's already got enough…" he trailed off, looking away. He closed his eyes, his voice quiet. "Garrity, she's got enough issues. I don't need to worry about you too. Okay? Or don't you care?" He waited a beat, while she just looked up at him, knowing what he was getting at, but she didn't want to admit that she'd done wrong by not calling him. He sat on the edge of the bed, covering her hand atop her belly. He squeezed her fingers. "You're supposed to be here, but you're not here," he said. He swallowed hard. "You live here, you work here, and we're having a baby, but…you didn't call me." He frowned deeply. "This isn't just you in this."

It feels like it. She lifted her eyes, sunken in her head and shadowed from fatigue and stress. I feel like a dripping mess, my hair hanging around my face and my cheekbones showing. It seemed like everything she ate went to the baby, but neither of them gained weight. She was tired all the time, she ached everywhere, and she was just…she sniffed, tears pricking her eyes. "I wish it was easy," she whispered. She hiccupped, squeezing his hand tight. "It's not you. I love you. I love you so much and it's not you, please believe me."

He nodded. "Then what is it?" he whispered. He frowned slightly. "You don't want to be here?"

"I do, I really do, but Tim please know…my life changed enough just moving here again and now we have this little girl coming and…and she's sick and I'm sick and I just…" she hiccupped, laughing and wiping her eyes, her fingers shaking. "I'm…I don't get jealous, I…I'm fortunate in so many ways and so are you, but…it'd be nice if the both of us could have something easy for once. You know?" She bit her lower lip, whispering and looking down at her hands. "Jason came here and I was just…it was fun again, but…" she blinked through tears, feeling a bit ashamed of herself. "I never felt jealous of him…but I kind of was." She bit her bottom lip, lifting her eyes, whispering. "I know how hard it is for him. For everything, but…he's come out the other side and he's happy and he has kids and he loves them and they're healthy and…" she hiccupped again, sniffing. "And I feel so bad for thinking that." She looked up again. He was smiling at her; why are you smiling, she felt like asking, but she just shook her head again, whispering. "This is hard for me. All of this Tim. I do want to be here."

Deep down, I really want to be here, believe that, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. This is where I belong now. I'm who I am. I left and I found myself and that person I found…well this is where she was supposed to come back, to help people like always and…and be with the person that she loved. She didn't live for him; this wasn't about him. This was her choice. Not his pushing. Or his stupid ultimatums. He reached around for her hand again, covering it with both of his. He smiled, looking down at her, whispering. "I don't regret anything Lyla. I like my life. I didn't, but I do now and…and this whole thing with her…she's going to be fine. She's our kid, she's going to be…" he sighed, but still smiled. "She's going to be like you."

Like me, huh? "Unable to make a decision?" she chuckled. She bit her lower lip, looking down at her stomach. She swallowed hard, her throat going dry. It was real. It felt like every day it got more real. She looked up at him again, whispering. "You're handling this very well. No…running off and losing your mind. I feel like I'm doing that enough for us both."

Tim waited a beat and then shook his head slightly, whispering. "I didn't tell you all of it."

"So you have secrets too?" she murmured, smiling slightly. Of course he did. We have to be honest with each other. That was one of their biggest problems. They just…they were trying to protect each other so they said nothing. Which made it worse. You think we'd have learned by now. She shook her head again. "I didn't tell you about being here because I didn't want you to leave work early. You're doing well and I know you hate it, but you're still doing well. It's good. One day you'll be able to leave and do what you want, but just suck it up for now."

"It's not that," Tim said, reaching into the pocket of his coat. He removed a vial, passing it towards her and sighed. He shrugged again, whispering. "I needed a couple. Just to get me through sometimes…this whole baby thing is just…it's freaking me out."

She looked up, laughing. "Tim!"

"I really didn't want you to think I was…drugging myself again," he mumbled. He seemed sheepish, looking up with a wry smile. "And I'm not, but…shit Garrity this whole thing is crazy." That's an understatement. She leaned in, kissing him lightly. I love you, she thought, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled back, reaching into his pocket and removed a small black box. Like a ring box. Tim no, she thought, her eyes widening as he flicked it open. "I know you don't want to get married," he said. He shrugged. "But Tyra told me I should probably have one in case and then Billy told me, so…well I thought…what the hell is a paycheck for, you know?"

It was beautiful, she thought. Exactly what she would have picked out. Her fingertips touched the diamond lightly, not wanting to smudge it. It wasn't the biggest, but it wasn't miniscule. It was perfect, because she didn't like gaudy jewelry and working with her hands as she did, jewelry was cumbersome. It sat on a platinum band and on either side were tiny sapphires. "My birthstone," she murmured, lifting it up from the velvet.

"Do you like it?" he mumbled, looking awkward as he set the box aside on the tray beside the bed. He frowned a little. "I can take it…"

Before he had a chance to say he'd take it back, she pulled him to her, kissing quickly. She smiled, nosing him lightly. "I love you. We're going to get married. Not until after the baby is born. After everything is okay with her."

"Mexico."

She slipped the ring onto her left hand, where it fit easily up against her third knuckle. She frowned. "What?"

"We're going to get married in Mexico. At the house. Jason's house." Tim seemed focused on that. Intent. Mexico. That would be fine, she thought. Nice. To go back where it all kind of started. He ran his hand over her stomach. "And little Luna can be there."

Luna. There it was again. "Luna," she murmured, arching an eyebrow. "You say that a lot. Why Luna?"

"I want something with Mexico and I like it." He wouldn't go into any further detail. If there was more meaning to the word 'moon' to him and to Mexico and a moon, than that was fine. She wouldn't pry. In fact, she thought, thinking; there was a full moon that one night they were there in Mexico. Maybe that's why he liked it. Whatever. She still thought that he wouldn't really call her that. She liked a few other names, older names. Millicent was one of them. She liked the name Mallory and Josephine.

We still have a couple months and I'm going to be on bed rest. She curled against him, feeling him stretch out beside her. Her hand rested atop his shoulder, watching the light coming in from the window play off the ring. "We're engaged," she whispered, still looking at it. She looked over at him, smiling. "You might want to call Jason. He should know."

Tim pulled his phone from his back pocket and smiled. "Jason had a girl. Her name is Lily."

"Aw, let me see a picture."

"He didn't send one."

"Idiot. Tell him to send one."

"She's big. Eight pounds. He says it's all healthy and happy and stuff."

I hope like hell that that will be the same for us, Lyla thought, closing her eyes and sending a quick prayer upward. Just make this as easy as possible, even if it's going to be difficult. I don't think Tim and I can take much more, she thought, feeling him tighten his grasp on her. She smiled, kissing him quickly. "Will you play the drums for me when we get home?"

"Should we really have the noise with you on bed rest?"

"I like it."

Tim rolled his eyes, settling into the pillows. "If I'd known that you had a thing for drummers, I'd have joined Landry's band in high school."

"Oh God know, they were terrible in high school. He's much cooler now."

"Cool probably isn't the best word."

"He's hot," Lyla said. Landry had gotten very attractive. He was also very sweet. The whole package, she thought. She looked up at him, seeing his scowl. She grinned, patting his cheek. "Don't worry. Landry's too normal for me."

"Good." He kissed her softly. "I don't want to be normal."

No, she thought. I don't suppose we do. We're fine the way we are, as painful as that can be sometimes. She closed her eyes, drifting into sleep.


	12. End

**A/N:**I quickly wrapped up this story sooner than I anticipated, mostly because I noticed the lack of interest in the later chapters and because I didn't want to prolong something that needed to be prolonged, so here is the quick wrapup. I'm working on another story now, a oneshot with the potential to be expanded into something bigger. We'll see. Thanks for the reviews and hope you enjoyed :)

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**12. End**

Lyla jumped up suddenly, rubbing at her eyes. Oh man, she thought, reaching back to push at her neck. She rotated her head around slowly, hearing it pop all into place. Oh my God, she thought, rubbing at her face again. She smiled warmly, moving up in the rocker to lean into the crib, her fingers stroking her daughter's little arm. "Hey princess," she cooed, smiling so wide she felt her jaw crack, the little girl's eyes flickering open. She ran her thumb down Luna's little cheek. "Hey, how are you feeling? You feeling better?"

Luna's eyes looked around, all big and baby blue. They were clouding a little with color, but hadn't turned 100% hazel. Her tiny hand clenched into a fist above her head, a little plastic node attached to her upper arm. Lyla didn't even know what half of the nodes were for. She did, because she was a doctor, but at the same time, this was her baby, and much of it was just…she didn't think like a doctor.

"Do you want to hold her?" one of the night nurses asked, stepping into the private room, where Luna had been staying. There were a few chairs set around and in one of them; Tim was curled into a ball, his coat over his head, hiding the light. It was fairly dim, but there were still lights and sounds coming from above Luna's crib. She was just covered in various wires and monitors, but thankfully many had already been removed.

Lyla nodded, still not used to the feeling of holding her daughter. The first time had been two days before. Luna had been about six weeks early. She'd had to have surgery right after birth and a week after that, her little body somehow withstanding anything they threw at her. Soon they said she'd be able to feed her, but not for another week. "She's so tiny," she whispered, as the nurse lowered Luna into her arms. She smiled softly down at her daughter. "Hey princess." That's what Billy had called her, to explain to the kids when they wanted to know why they couldn't visit their new cousin in the hospital.

"She's a princess, so she can't have visitors yet," he'd told them. Lyla had thought it was sweet of Billy to put it in those terms. Of course he also told them that she was in the hospital because she was getting her brain examined.

It suited her, Lyla thought, tucking one of the monitors around in her blanket. She smiled down at Luna. Tim had gone ahead and named her. I'll never be knocked out while my child needed a name ever again, she vowed. Not that she was really surprised when she woke up and found that all the paperwork and the birth certificate she left with read that she'd given birth to Luna Elizabeth Garrity Riggins.

My L's, Tim had called them. Lyla and Luna. Well that's not going to be made fun of, she thought sarcastically, still peering down at little Luna. It suited her. It was a sunny name, ironically, and seemed dreamy at the same time. That's what she seemed like. Wise beyond her four weeks of life, looking at them with little soulful eyes. She'd already been through more than most babies, she'd fought hard, and she was so strong. "Just like your daddy and mommy," she murmured, stroking Luna's soft dark hair beneath her tiny purple cap embroidered with a little moon and star. "More daddy than mommy." I've been strong before, but…Tim had been stronger than most anyone she'd met, except for perhaps Jason.

She looked up when she felt him moving around in his chair, finally dropping the coat off from around his face. His hair stuck up everywhere and he had little sleep bags beneath his eyes. "Nice to see you," she whispered, keeping her voice down for Luna. The little girl was awake, her tiny hand clutching around at her chest. She touched it lightly, returning her gaze. "You're going to eat in a couple of days," she whispered, nodding at Luna's fixated little look. "Yeah. You're going to eat real food and then once we get a stinky diaper, the doctors are going to let you come home with us. Yeah." I'll never be happier to change a diaper in my life, she thought, smiling down at her.

Tim moved over, leaning down to look at them both. He reached his arm over her shoulder, touching Luna's hand. The fingers instantly grasped his, clutching. "Well now I guess I gotta' stand here," he drawled, smiling at her. He seemed instantly relaxed around their daughter. More than she'd ever seen in her life. He moved around, sitting on the edge of the thick armrest, his arm going around her shoulders for support. He'd been better than she'd expected, which just made her feel a little bad. They'd had to be strong for each other.

Nothing else mattered, she thought, lifting her eyes up to meet his before she looked down at Luna again. "I want to get married in Mexico. In a month. Luna will be about eight weeks, we can get everyone to come. Landry will play the guitar. It'll be nice."

"Luna in Mexico?" He sounded disbelieving. He snorted. "I don't think so. What about her stomach?"

"What about it? The doctors say she's progressing far better than they expected, she's going to be just perfect," she murmured, looking down at her little angel. That's kind of what she is, she thought. She came at a perfect time. Didn't seem like it, but now that she'd had time to think about it, spending her days just looking at her, she knew it was the perfect time.

It was like the make it or break it moment. If we could withstand this, we would be just fine. All that other stuff with careers and emotions and all that…it didn't matter anymore. It doesn't, she corrected herself, because they were still there. Tim still had some self-esteem issues about whether or not she was there with him for the right reasons; started acting out and generally trying to do things to get her to go away so he could say 'I told you so.' She would get mad at him for acting like he didn't care about things that were important, like his job, whether he enjoyed it or not.

He didn't take any of the medicines anymore that he'd been using as lifesavers. She felt…calmer. There were bigger things in the world, it was a shame that it took their daughter, who wasn't planned, and who had problems of her own, to show them that. What killed her was that…she sighed, looking up at him, frowning slightly. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, slightly teasing. He waited a moment. "You're quiet."

"I'm just thinking…I mean…" She took a deep breath, stroking Luna's tiny hand. "I mean…we fight all this time and we cry and we mope and we just…we get so bogged down by things whether we mean to or not and yet…well she's not even a month old and she's faced more than most people do their first ten or twenty years of life. Or ever. She doesn't know what's going on, she just knows that she has to be strong. It's like she was born with it, she wants to fight and she doesn't even know what all is out there." She smiled, looking up at him again, her eyes shining with tears. I don't mean to cry, I just feel like a giant mess sitting here, she thought, sniffing. "I mean Tim it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Marriage or…or staying here or going back. Or what my reasons were for coming here."

That morning she'd actually gotten a letter, sent to her from the parents of Jessica, the girl with cancer who died on her watch. They thanked her for her help in Jessica's last couple of days. Thanked her for bringing their daughter's up. Carol had contacted her and said that the kid with a broken spine had come into the ER looking for her. He wanted to show her that he could walk with a cane nowadays. It was strange. Sometimes she had patients come find her. They felt they owed it to themselves or to the world to thank the surgeon or the doctor that in their mind saved their life, not realizing that it was her job, of course she was going to do everything to save him.

I feel like I've done everything. Everything that she'd wanted to do. And anything else didn't matter now. She glanced up at him again, whispering. "This is what I want to do Tim. This is what we both need to do. This little girl. It all is different now."

"I know," he said, resting his head against hers. He kissed her temple, whispering in her ear, looking down at Luna. "She matters."

"She matters," she agreed, reaching with her free hand to squeeze at his. He turned his hand around, squeezing her fingers tight. They sat like that for a long time, until Tim took Luna, sitting in the chair and it was her turn to sit with him, mostly on his lap. They could sit like this for hours. They had already and I'm sure we'll do it much more from here on out. She touched Luna's little hand. "I think we should get married by Jason."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"I think Jason should marry us. We can get married legally here a few days before, go to Mexico, and Jason should be the one." It felt right. Some might find it odd, her ex-boyfriend marrying her and her fiancé. Only Jason wasn't her ex-boyfriend. He was, but he had never felt like that. He was one of her best friends. The three of them…she smiled down at Luna, who had her little hands around Tim's fingertip, clenching and unclenching, her eyes darting around her surroundings. She opened her tiny mouth, yawning a little, the movement seemingly startling her.

Tim lifted her a little more carefully in his arms, his arms folding beneath her so she was cradled closer to his chest. Her tiny eyes closed and she moved her cheek to the bit of bare skin in the V of his button-down shirt. "Does she want you?" he wondered.

"She wants the warmth," Lyla said, touching her cheek with her fingertip. She let go, dropping her hand to her side. She looked back at him. Make a decision Riggins. Do you want this or not? "What about Jason?"

"Sure." He smiled a little, looking up at her. "But I'm not playing the drums at the wedding."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm really not."

I love you, she thought, kissing his temple and grinning. "I like how you think you have a choice in what goes on at our wedding." She helped him with Luna, so both of them were holding her, their heads bent together again. This was the way it was supposed to be. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply. I feel really good here. Really, really good. This was how it was supposed to end. "I wanted nothing to do with Jason when he called me," she murmured. A year ago. Good God, it had been a year. She rolled her eyes upward. "And I thought I was fine…until now."

Until now, she thought again. She kissed his cheek. Tim kissed her lightly again, murmuring against her lips. "You make me better," he whispered. He smiled quickly. "I guess I didn't know."

I guess we both didn't know. She cuddled him close, still holding Luna. Little Luna, who had no idea what her presence had done to her parents. One day I'll tell you, she thought, kissing Luna's forehead. One day.

* * *

_Six Years Later_

"Mommy."

Lyla looked away from Tim's hand, which she was inspecting for a rather nasty cut. She irrigated it over the sink, ignoring his hiss and mumbled curse. "Little ears," she reminded him, nodding towards their daughter, who was standing beside them, looking up curiously at the wound. She thankfully wasn't grossed out by things, probably because she spent a lot of time in the Dillon ER waiting on her to finish shift. She dabbed at the wound with a set of clamps and some cotton, setting it aside. "You need stitches."

"Just put the superglue in it."

"This is too deep," she said, reaching for her syringe kit. She opened it up, removing one and some litocaine to numb the area. She glanced down at Luna. "Sweetie why don't you go in the other room while I fix Daddy's boo-boo? He was stupid and he hurt himself."

"Daddy is stupid," she agreed.

"Hey! I'm right here." Tim glared down at her, pointing his finger. "And stop saying that." He looked over at Lyla. "She said I was stupid in the grocery store yesterday. I don't know where she's getting it."

"Mommy says it," Luna mumbled, rising on her toes and trying to peek up and see what was going on. Her eyes widened with a malevolent sort of glee. "Cool!" she exclaimed, as Lyla injected Tim's wound with the painkiller.

My little psychopath, Lyla thought lovingly, reaching for the sutures. She'd have to stock back up. Living with Tim Riggins and his child, who tended to get in as many accidents as her father from time to time, drained her medical kit of a lot of the essentials. "What can I help you with?" she asked, looking down at Luna as she began to sew up Tim.

Luna waited a few seconds before she cleared her throat dramatically. "How did you and Daddy meet?"

They both exchanged a look. Well that was an interesting story, she thought, clearing her throat again. "What do you think happened?" she asked, pulling at one of the stitches.

"I don't know. Did you guys meet and fall in love? Like Cinderella?"

"More like Beauty and the Beast sweetheart," Lyla drawled, grinning at Tim when he lifted an eyebrow, shaking his head slightly. The beauty tamed the great beast, she thought. She shook her head again. "Life isn't like a fairy tale Princess. Daddy and I met when we were little. We knew each other a long time and we dated in high school and then I went to college and Daddy went…away." They figured that they'd call it Tim's Lost Year until Luna was old enough to figure out that he was in prison. "And then a few years later…Uncle Jason decided to be silly and he tricked us to meet each other in Mexico and then we had you and we got married and now here we are."

That was the most oversimplified version she could think of telling her daughter. She was a little girl, of course she was going to have these romanticized notions of love. Especially because she was six and her favorite movies all ended with the princess and the prince running off together into the sunset. She finished with Tim, taking some gauze and wrapped it around his wrist, moving it up his forearm. He looked down at Luna again. "Your mom threw herself at me," he said, clearly.

Luna giggled, especially when she smacked his arm. "I did not!"

"You did too, you threw yourself at me. You see Luna my love, your mom didn't want a thing to do with me and I had to win her. Then, she had to win me back." He looked at her, grinning darkly. "Your mom had to get the prince."

"I saved the prince." It was a modern fairytale, she thought, looking down at Luna, arching an eyebrow. "And then our little Luna Tuna came along," she drawled, lifting Luna up. Oh, so heavy, she thought, carrying her into the living room. "And it all worked out."

"Oh." Luna waited a second, frowning and then looked at Tim again. "Uncle Jason said you guys would still have your head up your butts without him."

They both looked at each other again. Tim smiled sweetly. "Uncle Jason is a dead man. Ignore Uncle Jason. Come on." He took her hand, leading her out of the living room and to the front door. "Let's go outside and throw that football around a few times."

"What abouts your arm?"

"My arm is fine. Come on, I'll tell you all about the time your Mommy and me went to Mexico and Daddy got to surf."

"You can surf!?"

"I can surf!"

Lyla chuckled, leaning against the open front door, watching the two of them go out into the front yard, throwing the football around, with Tim using his left hand while he kept his right against him. They were planning a trip to Mexico in a few weeks; Luna was going to have a blast. Maybe Tim would even show her that he could surf. She looked up when she saw a car pulling into their winding driveway, waving at the sight of Jason and his family. They made it, she thought, not moving as he got out of the car, his kids falling out, with Lily running right to Luna.

The two of them were like best friends. Good, she thought. She wanted Luna to know Jason's kids. They were the closest thing she had to siblings, since in all likelihood she wasn't going to be blessed with any more children. Not for a lack of trying. They had forgone any sort of prevention and even after three years of it, nothing had happened, so she just figured that…well, Luna came along for a reason. A very good, very important reason, she thought, smiling down at Jason as he rolled towards her. "Hey stranger," she said, leaning down to kiss him lightly. "How was the drive from Dallas?"

"Not bad. We made good time." He peered up at her. "Why's Tim got a bandage on his arm?"

"Who knows why Tim does anything, I certainly done," she chuckled. She shrugged. "He practically ripped it open while he was fixing the roof. He'll be fine." She waited another moment before she leaned down and hugged him tight. I don't know why I feel so emotional, but I do. Maybe it was Luna asking how we met, wanting to hear the story of how her parents fell in love and she came into creation. The truth was going to be a long time coming and it certainly wasn't a fairy tale. "I love you."

Jason chuckled, letting go of her and reaching up to kiss her cheek again. "I love you too," he replied. "What was that for?"

"Nothing. Just…thanks for being you." She let go of his hand, leaving him to think about that for a few minutes before she ran off towards her family. She was happy, she was herself, and after six years of being back in Dillon, she didn't regret a thing.

THE END


End file.
